


trust no one, your highness

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Because of a curse, Curses, M/M, Mute!Jaskier, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22168510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: When Jaskier, the prince of a small kingdom, gets cursed, Geralt is called upon to help him break it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 205
Kudos: 2211





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i am stupidly excited for this one & i hope u guys enjoy... pls leave feedback love y'all  
> follow me on twitter @ queermight

Geralt was out of money- that was the only reason he'd agreed to helping the prince of a small kingdom he'd never even heard of. They had sought him out, searching nearly the entire Continent, after the prince had been cursed. They assumed one of the prince's many concubines had cursed him. It would not be a first, certainly, and usually the curses they got their hands on were fairly easy to break.

So, Geralt agreed but only after they'd told him what the kingdom was willing to pay for his services.

More than Geralt had ever gotten for one job, easily. He wondered briefly if a kingdom so small could even afford it, but he wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth. They obviously adored their prince and wanted him safe and were willing to pay any amount to do so. Fair enough.

Now he was following after the men who'd been sent for him. His escorts, essentially. 

Roach neighed softly, stomping. Geralt idly ran his hand down the length of her neck. 

"Tell me, then," he called out. One of the men turned his head to look at him. "What kind of curse is it?"

The man- an older knight with a thick beard- looked confused. "We haven't mentioned it?" 

Geralt raised an eyebrow, silently communicating _uh, no._ They started with _we need help_ and ended with _we'll pay any amount._ Any details had been skimmed over and now Geralt was wondering if he was making a mistake. Or, more accurately, if he'd been conned. He wouldn't put it past royalty. Selfish liars, the lot of them.

"It's not... life-threatening or anything like that," the knight started, interrupting his thoughts. He looked ahead again. "Our prince, well- he can't talk right now."

The corners of Geralt's mouth quirked up in an amused smirk. "You were sent to fetch me because your prince's a mute?" he asked blandly. 

He watched as the knight tensed up, probably at the disrespect. He didn't say anything, though. 

"He's not," he said after a moment. "Not normally, at least. He woke up one morning unable to speak or sing. He's been communicating in writing for days now. His father is stepping down in three weeks and the prince will officially be crowned king."

Geralt sighed lightly. Yippee. Just what the Continent needed- another selfish king.

"We were hoping the curse might be- uh, timed or something," he continued. "But we're running out of options."

Geralt looked away, stared at the passing mountains. "A curse that renders you unable to speak..." Honestly, he kind of liked the sound of it. "I might not be your best option," he continued. "Sounds like you might need a mage of some kind."

"We thought so as well," he said. "But our prince is not a fan of them after... well, a sour experience."

Geralt snorted, looking back. "Let me guess, he stuck his dick in the wrong sorceress?"

Once again the knight stiffened, his shoulders drawing up to his ears. Geralt waited patiently until he relaxed and answered. "A _sorcerer_ ," he said tersely, "but yes."

Geralt blinked, genuinely surprised by the new information. They had mentioned the prince's overwhelming amount of concubines earlier, so he assumed he was heterosexual. Rightfully so. He blinked again. "Does your prince stick his dick in anything that moves?" he asked, straight to the point. 

"I- " the knight sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. "Essentially, yes."

Geralt almost laughed. Almost. He pursed his lips and looked away again. "That's going to make finding the culprit a lot harder," he said, really just expressing his thoughts vocally.

"We know," one of the other knights- a younger woman with dark skin- said, looking exhausted beyond her years.

Geralt sighed lightly. Well, a job was a job. As long as he got paid and it was within his capabilities, he would do it.

The kingdom was small, like he expected, and not very extravagant. The town was small, encircling the castle. It was big, yes, but falling apart, obviously having not been taken care of for years. Longer, perhaps. Geralt followed the knights to the stables and hopped off Roach.

Roach snorted and he slid a hand down her side. "I'll buy you some treats with the money, okay?"

She neighed, quietly, and lowered her head. Geralt smiled, just barely, before turning toward the knights.

"So, where is he?" he asked blandly. 

The young knight stepped forward, hands clasped together behind her back. "I'll take you to his room. Follow me."

Geralt nodded silently and followed after her. She led him out of the stables and through the gardens and to the back of the castle where two large, wooden doors loomed threateningly. Mostly because they looked like they'd fall any second, crushing them.

"How... _quaint_ ," he drawled, looking over at her.

She shrugged. "Our king is..." 

"Do go on," he said after a moment, amused. "Your secret will be safe with me."

She smiled tightly and relaxed the tiniest bit, walking up and knocking on the doors. "Simply put: he's not the best with money. He spends most of it on alcohol and women."

Geralt walked up and joined her. "Sounds like his son is following in his footsteps," he pointed out, unhelpfully.

"Perhaps," she agreed with a tiny nod, "but Jaskier is different in his own ways."

He heard footsteps drawing closer. He squared his shoulders. "Like what?"

She smiled and for a second it was genuine and soft, and Geralt was taken back. "He's kind," she said quietly.

The doors opened before he could ask what she meant and a few guards with beady, dark eyes stared at him. Geralt stared back, not impressed. 

"Is this him?" one of them asked the knight.

She cleared her throat and nodded. "It is," she confirmed.

"We'll escort him to the prince's room, then," one of the guards said, grabbing for his arm.

Geralt quickly stepped out of the way before he could even touch him. "No touching," he said blandly and the guard challenged him for a second, glaring, but eventually backed down.

"Very well," he said in a gruff voice. He turned away and so did the other guards. "Follow me."

Geralt lingered, glancing at the knight. "I don't think I caught your name," he said. "Which is unfair, really, since you knew mine before we even met."

She rolled her eyes and offered a hand. "Triss, a royal knight of the courts."

Geralt accepted her hand and shook firmly. "Geralt of Rivia," he said, almost smirking, "but you knew that."

"I did," she said with a nod, releasing his hand. "You should join up them before they get too far. The castle might be falling apart, but it's still big enough newcomers often get lost."

Geralt nodded back. "I'll see you around." 

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and caught up with the guards.

Geralt followed the guards silently. He glanced around at the empty walls of the castle. Not a single painting of the family or Jaskier or the king. Or even the queen, who Geralt assumed had passed away at some point, considering she hadn't been mentioned once. The walls- no, the entire place- was void of any personality, even by Geralt's standards.

Shaking his head, he looked back ahead and rounded a corner after the guards.

The guards stopped near a door at the end of a long hallway. To be fair, it was actually two doors: red with gold accents. He raised an eyebrow as one of them knocked lightly.

No answer.

He knocked again and Geralt rolled his eyes, stepping forward and pushing the doors open. The guard gasped, but he promptly ignored him as the doors opened and revealed a beautiful, spacious room.

Just like the doors, it was decorated in mostly red and gold. Geralt's eyes landed on the bed first for two reasons.

Firstly, it was the biggest bed he had ever seen. Secondly, a small man laid in the center of it, curled up and hugging a pillow, snoring quietly. 

_Why did such a small man need such a big bed?_ he thought idly before remembering. Right, bed partners.

One of the guards cleared his throat. "Prince Jaskier," he said, but the man just grumbled and curled up smaller. Geralt glanced at the guard for a brief second before turning away and taking matters into his own hands, as he liked to do.

Walking over, he kicked the bed with his foot and Jaskier shot up like a bullet, still hugging the pillow.

He startled but seemed to calm down when he saw the guards. 

Jaskier was not what Geralt had pictured for some reason. He was a slim man with brown, tousled hair and matching eyes. His skin was light and- Geralt noticed- slightly freckled, mostly around his neck and shoulders. He didn't look like much of a womanizer, frankly.

He was cute enough, but in a way he assumed women wouldn't want. 

"Sir," one of the guards said, stepping forward. "This is who you requested: Geralt of Rivia."

Jaskier blinked once before he turned his attention back to Geralt. He stared up at him with wide, curious eyes. Geralt was a little surprised, yes, only because most humans were scared of him. Intrigued, sure, but fear usually won out. He nodded at one of the guards and they grabbed some stuff from a drawer, bringing it over.

Geralt realized what it was: a stack of paper with a quill and ink.

Jaskier quickly jotted something down before presenting it. _Hello, Geralt of Rivia. I'm Jaskier, but you probably already knew that._ Geralt thought of his earlier interaction with Triss. Same words, but entirely different situations. A witcher was nothing like royalty. Never would be.

He nodded curtly. "From my understanding, you want my help with a curse?"

Jaskier smiled brightly and Geralt was a little floored if only because he wasn't used to folks who smiled so fully, openly. He looked down and scribbled some messy words across the page. _Do you think you can help me?_

"I can... try," he answered truthfully. "Probably won't be a quick fix."

Jaskier blinked. He didn't look disappointed, exactly, just curious. _Why is that?_

Geralt sighed quietly. "We need to find out who cursed you and why," he explained, ignoring the guards, who were watching him with less friendly curiosity. "Then we need to pinpoint the exact curse and how to break it."

He watched as Jaskier started writing before frowning and crossing it out in dark ink. _I understand. I still want your help. If you're willing._

Geralt raised both eyebrows. "If I'm being paid, yes."

Jaskier smiled again and nodded. _Whatever you want_ he scribbled quickly. 

"Pick your next words carefully," he said, mostly joking. Usually his jokes fell flat.

Jaskier, surprisingly, seemed to pick up on it. He smiled wider, nose scrunching with it. _The guards will show you your room. You've traveled a long way. We'll discuss the details of our agreement in the morning._

Normally, he'd prefer just hashing out the details as quickly as possible but frankly he was tired and dirty. A soft bed and a bath sounded amazing. Not to mention, Jaskier seemed like he was still pretty tired as well. Geralt nodded after a moment. "Okay."

One of the guards cleared his throat. "You should address him properly," he said sternly. 

Geralt's eyebrow twitched. This was why he preferred not dealing with royalty. Jaskier held up the a piece of paper.

_Don't listen to him. You very well might be saving my life, witcher. We don't need to be so formal._

"Your Highness," one of the guards said through clenched teeth. "That's improper."

Jaskier waved him off and scribbled a few more words. Geralt idly noted that his handwriting was beautiful, even when rushed. _Sleep well, Geralt of Rivia._

"Goodnight, Jaskier," he said, mostly because he got a kick out of the guards' reactions. Wide-eyed and sputtering. Jaskier's reaction was kind of interesting, too. He laughed, head thrown back. His laughter was more like huffs of air, likely as a result of the curse, but Geralt could imagine it was lovelier under normal circumstances. Shaking his head, he turned away and strolled out of the room. "Don't you two have a room to show me?"

The room he was appointed for his stay was huge, not as big as Jaskier's, for obvious reasons, but more than enough. Geralt walked over and sat on the bed, sighing contently. The mattress was _so soft._ He hadn't slept on something so soft in _months_.

Tossing his bag on the floor, he laid back and stared up at the ceiling.

Curses were a pain in the ass, frankly, but he hoped it was just a jealous maid seeking petty revenge. Or an angry woman he'd slept with. _Or man,_ his brain supplied unhelpfully.

He grunted to himself and rolled over, closing his eyes. He would take a bath in the morning.

He was woken by frantic pounding on the door. He shot up out of bed and rushed over, throwing the door open. A different guard stood in front of him. Geralt noticed her height immediately. She was the tiniest knight he'd ever seen. 

"Jaskier has called for you," she said.

Geralt sighed heavily. No bath, then. He rolled his shoulders. "I'll be there in a few- "

"He wants to talk over breakfast; I'll show you the way," she interrupted breezily. She eyed him. "He also told me to bring you these." Geralt watched, confused, as she shoved a bag against his chest. "New clothes," she stated. "I'll be outside when you're ready."

Without waiting for a reply, she closed the doors.

Geralt looked in the bag and scowled. It really was a bag of clothes. Made of the finest materials, too. He walked over and poured the clothes out on the bed, picking a shirt and pants. Somehow they'd gotten his size right, too. Shaking his head, he stripped and pulled on the new, clean clothes.

He admittedly did feel better. 

He joined the guard out in the hall. She eyed him again. "Better," she nodded in approval. "Follow me."

Geralt rolled his eyes but followed after her. For most of the walk they didn't speak. He didn't mind- he wasn't much of a talker, anyway. But finally he had to ask, "you called him Jaskier." The girl looked at him oddly. "Earlier. Most of the other guards called him Prince or Highness."

"I'm one of his guards," she said and then she smiled, surprising Geralt, "but I'm also his best friend." She had a soft, gentle smile. She was young but looked wise for her age. 

Geralt nodded, looking back ahead as they walked, his boots heavy. He was a little disappointed they hadn't sent him new shoes, too. Finally they stopped in front of two very large doors, a beautiful pearl color with gold accents. "Jaskier and his father should be waiting for you," she said, stepping out of the way.

"Thank you," he said and reached for one of the doors before pausing. 

She smiled again. "Cirilla," she lowered her voice, "but Jaskier calls me Ciri."

Geralt nodded. "Geralt of Rivia," he said automatically.

Cirilla's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I know," she said. She nodded at the door. "Go on."

He opened the doors and was immediately blinded by the brightness. The dining room was huge, obviously, but more than that it was bright. White walls with a large wooden table that was covered in a white tablecloth, white chairs. He blinked, seeing stars briefly, before his eyes focused on the two men sitting at the table. Jaskier's father- the king- was sitting at the head of the table.

Jaskier was sitting at what looked like a random spot, poking at his food boredly. He beamed when he saw Geralt, though, waving him over. Geralt moved automatically, sitting across from him.

He noticed there was a stack of paper on the table in front of Jaskier. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Geralt of Rivia," the king said, drawing his attention.

A maid walked over with a rolling cart and placed a few plates of food in front of him. His mouth watered.

"Jaskier filled me in on everything," he continued, taking a sip of something that looked like orange juice. "You are willing to help us, yes?" He smiled. "Given the right price, of course."

Geralt shrugged and finally allowed himself to eat, slowly. "For the right price," he confirmed simply.

"Anything," the king said, spreading his arms out. "Jaskier will be taking my spot soon. We need him at his best."

Geralt's eyes naturally flickered over to Jaskier, who looked rightfully embarrassed, slumped in his chair. He looked back and nodded. "I will try my best. Curses can be tricky," he added honestly.

The king looked confident. "I have heard from a few sources that you are a capable man, Geralt of Rivia." He folded his hands together on the table. "I put my faith in your abilities."

Geralt didn't say anything, just shoveled more food in his mouth. He heard Jaskier's huffy laughter again, which quickly died out when his father glared at him. 

"You will have access to everything," the king continued after a moment. "Our library, our medical team. Whatever you need. You can, of course, ask Jaskier any questions you might have."

Geralt always felt weird about this part. He just nodded, unsure of what words would be right.

"As for your payment..." he nodded at Jaskier, who showed him a piece of paper with a staggering amount written in the corner. Geralt almost choked, clearing his throat.

"That's... more than enough," he said, looking at the king.

He smiled at Geralt. "Hardly. It is sufficient payment for your services. Now if you'll excuse me," the king stood up, pushing his chair back. "With Jaskier's coronation arriving soon, I have so much work to do."

Geralt nodded, watching as he left the room, a few guards trailing after him. He glanced at Jaskier. 

He was not good at small talk. Thankfully, Jaskier grabbed his quill and began scribbling. He presented the pages- yes, more than one- to Geralt, who took them with greasy fingers.

He read the words with a raised eyebrow, no longer interested in eating. 

_Here's a proper list of the people I've considered as suspects:_

Geralt skimmed the list and sure enough it was about equally full of men and women. "This is a good starting point," he said. He glanced at the second piece of paper. The list just kept going. The guards had not been kidding. "I'll check with them, but it might take..." he made a face. "A while."

Jaskier rightfully looked embarrassed. He picked up his quill again. _I can maybe cross out a few. Some of them were years ago._

Geralt handed the pages back. "That might be helpful."

Cheeks a little flushed, which was stark against the paleness of the rest of his skin, he crossed out a few names before handing the pages back. Geralt folded them up and slipped them in his pocket.

"I'll let you know if I have any, uh- further questions," he said. 

Jaskier smiled, bright but a little tarnished around the edges. He stood up and gathered the paper, leaving the room. Geralt sighed heavily and finished his food.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all have any guesses on who it is yet... bc im trying to be sneaky but also hint-y  
> follow me on twitter @ queermight

Geralt didn't actually see much of Jaskier after that. Not for a few days, at least. He was too busy going through the list and crossing out names. He met with a woman named Elizabeth, who was so sweet Geralt kind of felt bad for even thinking it could be her. A woman named Anna who was now married with a pair of twins. Most of them were dead ends. 

Then he reached the first man on the list- Bertin- and felt a weird itch under his skin. He shook his head, shook off the itch, and went searching.

Bertin was older than he expected. A man in his thirties, at least, who looked incredibly bored when Geralt knocked at his door. 

"I was wondering if we could talk," Geralt said gruffly, the papers tucked away in his pocket. "About Jaskier."

Bertin rolled his eyes. "Tell that little punk it was a one night affair and to get over it already, will ya?" 

Geralt was taken back. "That's not- uh."

"Have a good day," he said blandly, closing the door in his face.

Geralt blinked once before taking out the list. He left Bertin's name untouched, just for now. Folding the papers back up, he shoved them in his pocket and decided to take a break for the day. He was starving and as long as he had free rein of the castle he was going to eat like a king.

Geralt stopped by the stables after lunch and treated Roach with scraps. She neighed happily.

Sighing, he scratched behind one of her ears as she chomped on a carrot. "I know you get antsy being tied up in one place for too long," he muttered. "I'll try and hurry, ok- "

The sound of a twig breaking and Geralt twirled around, already reaching for his sword. Jaskier scrambled back and put his hands in the air, smiling sheepishly.

Sighing again, his hand fell away from his sword, resting on his hip. "What are you doing here?"

Jaskier walked closer. He pulled something out of his pocket- his own folded up piece of paper- and unfolded it. I wanted to check if there's been any progress.

Geralt thought of Bertin briefly before deciding that probably wasn't a reliable lead. "No, not really."

Jaskier looked disappointed as he nodded and folded the paper back up slowly. Roach neighed loudly and he startled before breaking out into a grin again and reaching for her.

"I'd be caref- " Geralt started because Roach sometimes was not fond of strangers.

But she just snorted happily, relaxing under Jaskier's touch. He grinned up at Geralt almost proudly. 

"Never mind," he mumbled, watching the pair with mild amusement. "Do you not have your own horse?"

Jaskier shrugged. He obviously did not have a quill with him, so his communication was throttled. He leaned in and pressed his face against Roach's neck, sighing softly. Geralt watched them silently for a long moment. He looked good with Roach.

_"Jaskier!"_

Geralt looked up just as Cirilla appeared around the corner. She ran over and cleared her throat.

"Your father is asking for you," she said. Jaskier frowned as he stepped back from Roach. "Sorry."

Jaskier shrugged again and smiled tightly at Geralt, nodding his goodbye before following Cirilla out of the stables. Geralt watched as they left, a weird nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. Jaskier obviously had a strained relationship with his father, which wasn't new, but there was something more to the story, he could tell. Shaking his head, he pulled out another carrot and offered it to Roach, who took it happily.

Geralt stopped by the library after that. He didn't think he would find much useful information, but despite his appearance, he actually enjoyed reading. It was relaxing. A simple pleasure of life. He scanned the bookshelves and pulled out a book about curses, staring at the cover.

"Oh!" a woman's voice broke the still air of the library.

Geralt shoved the book back on the shelf and turned around. "Triss," he greeted, relaxing a bit at the somewhat familiar face.

Triss smiled politely. "Find anything useful yet?" she asked, the doors closing behind her with a clank.

"Not exactly," he answered truthfully. He thought of Bertin again. "Do you know anything about one of Jaskier's many affairs- Bertin?"

Triss walked over and sat in one of the many chairs. Geralt joined her a few seconds later. She hummed thoughtfully, hands folded together in her lap. "I think I do," she said after a moment. "Jaskier was... well, he was a bit into him, if you know what I meant."

Geralt stared at her, unblinking. "I don't think I do."

She smiled, eyes alight with amusement. "Jaskier sleeps around a lot, yes, but he's not unrealistic about it. He knows it's not love or anything like that." Triss shifted, crossing her legs. "But it was different with Bertin. He had feelings for him."

Geralt grunted. That was not what he'd been expecting. 

"That was... nearly eight months ago, though," she continued, a bit softer. "Jaskier seemed to have gotten over him. He hasn't visited him in months."

Geralt nodded. He knew he still wouldn't be crossing out his name. Not yet, at least. 

"I hope you find the culprit," Triss said, standing up. "King Balweic is not a good man. We need Jaskier."

Geralt nodded again. "I don't get paid unless I do," he reminded her.

She just laughed, touching his shoulder, light and friendly, as she walked to the door. Geralt watched silently as she left, the doors closing behind her again. Sighing, he stood up and went back to the bookshelf. He realized, with a small start, that the book about curses was missing.

A guard showed up at his room at around six and informed him of dinner. Geralt pulled on some proper clothes and walked to the dining room, no longer needing help finding it.

He pushed the doors open and was surprised to find the king was nowhere to be seen. It was just Jaskier.

Jaskier looked up and smiled, waving him over. Geralt walked over and sat across from him, which was becoming a habit. He picked up a piece of paper and pointed at it.

_Sorry, my father is busy. It's just us tonight._

Geralt nodded. Food was distributed to them evenly, still larger amounts than Geralt was used to. He watched as Jaskier mostly poked at the food, just like before. 

"Are you not hungry?" he asked.

Jaskier looked up and smiled again. He wiped one of his hands off on a napkin and dipped his quill. _I haven't been very hungry since this whole thing started,_ he admitted. 

Geralt nodded in understanding. "I am doing my best," he assured him. "And you will be the first to know if I find anything."

Jaskier looked surprised for a moment. He dipped his quill again. _Really?_ he scribbled with wide eyes. He paused for a beat before adding, _Me, and not my father?_

"Your father is not the cursed one, Jaskier," he replied simply. "I will tell you first."

Jaskier stared at him for a long, silent moment. Then he smiled so brightly Geralt thought it was almost blinding, especially against the white backdrop of the dining room. He looked down and began eating.

 _Well, whatever,_ Geralt thought, there was never in any harm in being on a future king's good side.

Geralt went back to his room for a bit. He looked over the list. Tomorrow he would pick up where he left off. He hoped whoever cursed Jaskier would crack under the pressure of a witcher showing up at their doorstep. If not, this was going to be a lot harder and he only had a little under three weeks.

Sighing, he placed the papers on the dresser as he left. He walked to the washroom and noticed one of the maids he wanted a bath. She was a sweet elderly woman.

"Give me a few minutes, darling," she said and he nodded, leaning against the wall to wait as she scurried off.

Geralt closed his eyes, nearly falling asleep. He opened his eyes when he heard footsteps again.

"Your bath is ready, sir," she informed him.

He nodded. "Thank you."

He entered the washroom and sighed at the sweet smell of expensive soap. Shrugging off his clothes, he walked over and dipped a foot in the hot water. Exactly what he needed. He put his other foot in and sunk down under the warm water. Geralt laid his head back and closed his eyes again.

He did not like royalty, that much was true, but he had to admit there were perks of working for them.

Geralt had nearly fallen asleep when he heard- 

He jolted upright, staring at Jaskier's red face as he lingered in the doorway.

"Fuck," he breathed. 

Jaskier's eyes dropped low, low before going back up to his face. He didn't squeak, probably because he couldn't, but Geralt had the feeling he would have if he'd been capable of it. He nodded, a silent apology, and closed the door. Geralt sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead. He was the one at fault, really, for forgetting to lock the stupid fucking door.

Standing up, he grabbed a towel and dried off before finding his clothes.

Jaskier was gone when he opened the door though. Geralt sighed again and walked to his room.

He didn't see Jaskier again that night, unfortunately. He went back to his room and slept.

He woke up around six or seven in the morning, staring at the sunlight pouring through the window. He sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face. Two weeks and about five days to find the culprit and break the curse. Geralt rolled his shoulders and sighed. 

"No pressure at all," he muttered to the empty room.

Standing up, he pulled on his clothes and opened the door, nearly colliding with- 

"Cirilla," he said tersely.

The girl stopped dead in her tracks and looked up at him, sheepishly. "Sorry. Uh, Jaskier called for me."

He nodded and she took that as permission to run off. Geralt watched silently as she ran around the corner and disappeared. He thought briefly if she could be the culprit. The prince's own best friend, what a story. He'd have to ask Jaskier about it, but he knew the man would probably be offended at the mere accusation.

Turning the other way, he started off in the direction of the dining room.

Balweic was nowhere to be seen. Evidently, his first dinner with the royal family had been an oddity. Geralt sat down and was served an impressive breakfast.

He was halfway through the meal when the doors opened again and Jaskier walked in.

Geralt turned to look at him and, frankly, found the horrified look on his face wildly amusing.

"Are you okay, Your Highness?" he drawled, holding back a smirk. 

Jaskier coughed as he scurried around and sat across from Geralt. He had a stack of paper, like usual, but the one on top already had words on it, prepared in advance. He shoved it in Geralt's general direction without looking.

_I'm sorry about last night. Won't happen again._

Geralt took another bite of eggs and chewed slowly. "It wasn't a big deal, really."

Jaskier nodded just as one of the maids served him, too. He smiled at her. 

"I have a question," he started after a moment, "about what I'm here for."

Jaskier looked up and nodded without missing a beat.

Geralt sighed. "Do you think there's any chance the person who cursed you might be... closer than you think?" he asked, slowly introducing him to the idea. "Like a friend."

He was not surprised when Jaskier dipped his quill and quickly wrote _no way. Like who?_

Geralt sniffed. He sent a silent apology to Cirilla. "Like Cirilla," he said, "or even one of your other guards. A knight, even, like Triss."

Jaskier, predictably, looked affronted at the mere suggestion. He frowned. _No. Maybe someone else, but not Cirilla. She's my oldest friend._

"That means nothing," he said bluntly. "Friends fight, drift apart. Can you, Your Highness, with complete sureness, tell me she's not a suspect?"

Jaskier stared at him. He opened his mouth before, seeming to remember the whole point they were having this conversation in the first place, closed it. He scribbled, truthfully, _I don't know._

"I'm not saying it is her," he said. "But it is a possibility."

Jaskier nodded and stood up, frowning, eyes downcast. He had barely touched his food. Geralt's stomach lurched.

"Jask- " he started, but Jaskier just ignored him as he walked around the table and left the room. Geralt sighed loudly and slumped back in his chair. He was trying to _help_. So why was he being treated like the bad guy?

He did keep an eye on Cirilla after that, but she never seemed too suspicious. She was a good guard and seemingly spent all her free time with Jaskier or reading in the library. Geralt checked all the books she read after she left, but they were usually just innocent tales of adventures or dragons. No curses in sight.

He remembered the book he saw on his first day in the library. The one that vanished. Geralt rubbed at the back of his neck. He should ask the king about it.

If Cirilla wasn't the culprit, he needed to go back to the list. He picked up where he left off, visiting the suspects.

Pretty women, some with no brains. Handsome men, usually older, he noted idly, who also had no brains. Jaskier evidently had a type. Lucky for him, most of them seemed too dumb to be the culprit. They weren't looking for a genius, but someone capable enough of researching and performing a spell.

Unluckily for Geralt, he still had no lead. He returned to the kingdom a little after dark, feeling keyed up and annoyed. Triss found him not soon after and apparently noticed because- 

"Oh, someone's a little grumpy," she said.

Geralt grunted, walking to his room and promptly ignoring her.

Triss tsked and scurried ahead, stopping in front of him and blocking his path. "The king wants to speak to you."

"Right now?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Triss smiled sweetly. "Good luck. He's in the dining room, waiting for you." 

Geralt watched as she walked off. Taking a deep breath, he turned and started off in the opposite direction of his room. The dining room doors were open when he arrived. King Balweic nodded at a guard, who closed them after Geralt's arrival. He walked over and sat.

"I hope you don't mind me asking," the king started, "but I was wondering if you've made any... _progress_."

Geralt sighed. "Not really," he answered truthfully, "and I'm nearly finished with the list Jaskier provided."

King Balweic nodded solemnly, folding his hands together on the table. Geralt noted the expensive, gaudy rings on his fingers. "I'm not worried," he said after a moment. "Like I said, I have faith in your abilities and there's still over two weeks until Jaskier's coronation."

He almost wanted to just say _fuck it_ and quit. He needed the money though. _And you want to help Jaskier,_ a tiny part of his brain supplied. Geralt grunted and firmly pushed _that_ unhelpful thought to the back of his mind. "I had a question about something odd that happened." Balweic stared at him expectantly. "In the library."

"Yes?" he prompted.

Geralt hmmed, adjusting in his chair. "A book went missing, I think. Something about curses." He paused before adding, "but that's not the worst of it- pretty sure the damned thing went missing right in front of me."

Balweic leaned back in his chair. "That's... concerning, yes. Did you see anyone else in the library?"

He almost didn't want to answer. "Triss," he said. "One of your knights."

Balweic sighed, shaking his head. "I will have a talk with her," he said. "Let you know if I find anything."

Geralt stared at him for a moment. "Okay," he agreed. "I'll finish the rest of the list in the morning."

"Wonderful," he replied, smiling. Geralt thought he looked oddly like a shark, sharp around the edges. Then again, he thought most royalty looked like that. _But not Jaskier,_ his brain supplied again. "Sleep well, Geralt of Rivia."

He nodded curtly and stood up, leaving the room with an itchy, uncomfortable feeling under his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u enjoy my fics please check out:  
> korrmin.tumblr.com/writing


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do y'all think geralt is headed in the right direction  
> also what's going on w jaskier... hm

Geralt woke up early in the morning hours and left the castle with the list. He only had a few names left. Well, he'd had to cross out a few simply because they no longer lived in the kingdom. He was finished by lunch. Still no promising leads. He thought about Bertin. Perhaps he should visit him again.

He walked back to the castle and nodded at the guards, who opened the doors for him. It was weird, being treated like royalty when he most certainly was not. 

The halls were busier than usual, bustling with folks Geralt did not recognize. He stared at all of them, who cowered a bit under his scrutiny. Curious, he walked toward the dining room. The library was on the way and was usually vacant most days.

Not today, he realized, when he passed the doors and heard something.

He stopped in front of the door and glanced around. The hall was mostly empty, just a few lingering guards.

Geralt debated knocking, really, but Balweic had given him free rein of the kingdom. So. He opened the doors without knocking and was surprised, genuinely, by the sight in front of him. Jaskier was sitting in one of the library's chairs, playing an instrument Geralt vaguely recognized as a lute, usually played by bards. Not royalty, definitely not a future king.

Jaskier's head shot up at his arrival, his face reddening. He shoved the lute down between his legs and smiled awkwardly, tightly. Geralt walked in, gently closing the doors behind him.

"I didn't know you played an instrument," he said, eyeing the instrument between his legs. He pointedly ignored the way his pants pulled, tight, around his thighs.

Jaskier pursed his lips, lightly running his hands over the smooth wood of the instrument. After a moment, he nodded at the empty chair across from him. Geralt hesitated for just a second before he walked over and sat down, shrugging his bag off and placing it on the floor.

Jaskier's eyes found Geralt's swords, a little wide and curious. Geralt cleared his throat.

He startled, tearing his eyes away from them. He smiled awkwardly, again, as he reached over and dipped his quill, writing something on a piece of paper. He wasn't scribbling, like before, but very precise in his movements. _I don't flaunt the fact I play._

Geralt nodded slowly. "Why not?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Jaskier shrugged sharply and for a moment Geralt thought he wasn't going to answer. But then, _my father doesn't approve of me playing. Or singing. He thinks it's unfit for a future king._

Geralt was stuck on- "you sing, too?"

Jaskier looked up, cheeks pink. He looked happier now, though, more in his element. _I do. It's my favorite thing to do. That's why this is so hard on me._

"I didn't know," he admitted. 

Jaskier smiled a bit. _I told you, I'm not very open about it. Father's rules. I can do it, but only behind closed doors._

"That's stupid," he stated bluntly. "You're your own person. You should be able to do what you want."

Jaskier looked down and shrugged, lightly strumming one of the strings. 

For a moment, they were both silent. Geralt finally broke it. "I need to ask you something, Jaskier."

Jaskier looked up and nodded. He gently leaned his lute up against the table and shifted, pulling his knees up into the chair with him. He looked so young suddenly. Geralt swallowed around the lump in his throat. He had a job to do. He couldn't get distracted. 

"Bertin," he said. "You had feelings for him, right?"

Jaskier visibly stiffened, hugging his knees. Geralt did not push, just waited patiently until Jaskier finally picked up the stack of paper and dipped his quill. _I did,_ he wrote, _but I've moved on. Why?_

Geralt wondered if that was true- had he really moved on or was he simply lying? He hoped it was the former. He didn't think too hard about why. "But do you think he could potentially have a reason to want to do this to you?"

 _No,_ he answered quickly, scribbling. _He probably hasn't even thought of me in months._

Geralt hmmed, sitting back. He stared at Jaskier's hands and noticed, for the first time, the callouses on his fingers, probably from playing the lute. He blinked, once. "Jaskier, who knows about your interest in singing?"

He looked up just as confusion flashed across Jaskier's face. _I don't know. Why?_

"This might not be as random or convenient as we thought. Maybe it was purposeful. They knew about your singing- they wanted to hit you where it hurt." Geralt leaned forward. "Please, try remembering."

Jaskier stared into Geralt's eyes. He nodded after a moment. _I don't keep track of it, but Ciri. My father. A few of the guards and maids have caught me while I was playing or singing, too._

"Do you remember which ones?" he asked.

Jaskier looked thoughtful for a second. _I can try_.

"Okay," Geralt sighed. "Do that. I think we've been going about this all wrong."

Jaskier scribbled down a few names. Then, _do you really think it's someone working for us?_

"I don't know," he said honestly. "But in my experience, it's definitely possible, yes."

Jaskier frowned. _Why would they want to do that, though? I'm not like my father. I'm kind to them._

Geralt did not have an answer for that. He reached out and put a hand on Jaskier's shoulder. "When I find the culprit, we can ask them," he said, squeezing lightly. "Until then, be careful."

He nodded. _Thank you, Geralt._

He remembered, suddenly, the halls full of unfamiliar faces. "Why is the castle so busy today?"

Jaskier looked confused for a second. _Did my father not tell you? We're having a ball this weekend. A celebration for me, his quill stuttered for a second, the future king. You're invited, of course. It'll be in the ballroom._

Geralt sniffed. "I don't really enjoy parties," he stated honestly.

Jaskier smiled a bit. _I could tell. I usually love them. But I probably won't, considering my situation._

"Does your father honestly think this is a good idea?" he asked bluntly, raising his eyebrows.

Jaskier was no longer smiling as he replied _Who knows. It's not like he ever asks me what I want. He's all about doing things the traditional way._

Geralt hmmed thoughtfully, looking away and squinting at a random spot on the floor. Spilled ink, probably from Jaskier. "I'll go," he said suddenly, surprising even himself.

Jaskier shoved a piece of paper in his face. _What? Why?_

Geralt pushed the paper out of his face. "It might be a good idea," he explained plainly. When Jaskier looked vaguely confused, he continued, "I can keep an eye out for anyone suspicious." 

Jaskier blinked, once. _Makes sense._ He openly eyed Geralt's outfit, and smiled coyly. _But do you have anything to wear?_

"What do you mean?" he asked gruffly. "I can wear this."

Jaskier's mouth fell open. He firmly shook his head and scribbled away. _No way. You look terrifying._ Geralt narrowed his eyes. _In a totally sexy way, of course, but it just won't work for a ball. Luckily for you, we have an amazing seamstress. She can make whip you something up by the party._

Geralt was a bit distracted by Jaskier's offhanded comment. _In a totally sexy way._ Because what the fuck? He knew Jaskier was interested in men, but this- this was different. This wasn't Jaskier showing interest in another man, but Geralt. 

A piece of paper was shoved back in his face. _We don't have to if you don't want to. I was joking. Kind of._

Geralt cleared his throat. "Do what you think is best."

Jaskier beamed. _Okay, I'll let you know when the outfit is done. Shouldn't be too long._

"Don't you need my measurements or something?" he asked blandly.

Jaskier looked him up and down. _I think we're good, but I'll let you know if she has any problems._

Geralt nodded and stood up. He was suddenly feeling itchy again. "I'm going to grab something to eat. I'll see you soon, Your Highness." He eyed his instrument again and couldn't help smiling, just barely. "Keep practicing."

Jaskier startled and gripped the handle of the lute, knuckles almost white. He nodded, once, quick. 

He turned around and left, still feeling itchy. He shook it off as he approached the dining room.

Balweic called him to the throne room later that night. Geralt nodded at the guards, who opened the door for him. He still wasn't used to that. 

"Geralt," he boasted. "Come, sit with me."

He gestured at the empty throne beside him, presumably once belonging to Jaskier's mother, the queen. Geralt stepped forward. "I'd prefer to stand," he said plainly.

Balweic stared at him for a second before laughing. "Right, right. Well, at least, let me- " he gestured at a maid. "Some ale for our esteemed guest."

The maid nodded quickly and scurried out of the room.

"Did you need something?" Geralt asked once she was gone and it was just the two of them.

Balweic smiled, a little too sweetly. It was that shark grin again, a staple of royalty. "I asked Triss about what you mentioned. The, uh- disappearing book, yes. She said she doesn't know a thing about it."

Geralt had liked Triss well enough, but that was hardly convincing. "And you believe her?"

"Well, I mean, she's worked for us for years, Geralt," he explained. "I don't understand why she'd do this."

He had a point, of course, but- "Sometimes we are hurt by the people closest to us," he said with a small shrug. A simple fact of life he had grown accustomed to. "But if you truly think she has no part in this, I'll keep looking elsewhere."

Balweic smiled again just as the maid returned with a tray. Balweic grabbed one of the frothy mugs, and Geralt was offered the other. He took it and nodded at the maid, who startled and ran off.

"She's a mousy one, isn't she?" the king laughed.

Geralt grimaced, hiding it behind the rim of his mug. "I have a theory on who cursed Jaskier," he said after a moment.

Balweic smiled brightly, leaning forward. "You do- who is it?"

He smiled back, tight-lipped. "I think it'd be better if, for now, I kept that a secret."

"Oh," Balweic looked disappointed but only for a second. Geralt watched him closely. "I understand completely. Just... please let me know if you find the culprit."

Geralt took a gulp of his ale, which burned his throat. "Will do."

"Cirilla," Geralt said, finding her down one of the many twisting hallways. She looked over at him, fierce as ever despite her small stature. "Can I talk to you about something?"

She looked surprised, but nodded. 

Geralt glanced around, once, before looking back. "Preferably in my room."

Cirilla frowned. "I'm not- "

He threw a hand up. "I do mean _just_ talk."

She eyed him for a few seconds before nodding. As a pair, they walked to Geralt's room. He closed and locked the door, turning around. "What do you know about Triss?"

Cirilla looked, rightfully, taken back. She reached up and took off her helmet. "Why do you ask?" Her eyes widened. "You- you don't think she had something to do with..."

Geralt shrugged sharply. "I don't know. Maybe. Will you tell me?"

Pursing her lips, she sat on the edge of Geralt's bed and set her helmet beside her. "She was working for the king long before I arrived. She was always nice, almost annoyingly so."

He snorted, but didn't interrupt her.

"She cared for Jaskier like a mother after his own passed away," she continued. "That's why I don't believe she'd ever hurt him. Ever."

Geralt sighed and looked up, staring at the ceiling as he constructed his thoughts around the new information. "Do you think she's involved with the king?"

"Wh- what?" she asked in disbelief. "I- no way."

Geralt lowered his head, staring at her and waiting.

She shifted awkwardly. "Okay, I don't know. It's possible. She always has been... _close_ to him."

"Maybe she got angry about Balweic stepping down," he said. "Wanted to postpone Jaskier's coronation."

Cirilla pressed her lips together. "I don't know," she repeated. "I- maybe."

"I need to talk to her," he said.

Cirilla looked up. "She's probably asleep by now. You're lucky you found me."

"Tomorrow, then," he said, turning and unlocking the door. "Thank you for- " he started as he opened the door, right in Jaskier's face. He startled, scrambling back a few steps and avoiding the door. "Jaskier?"

Jaskier smiled sheepishly and held up a piece of paper. _I was wondering if-_ Geralt never got to read the rest because Cirilla stood up and just as quickly Jaskier had shoved the paper down. 

"Jas," she said. 

Geralt watched, silently, as Jaskier frowned, an odd look in his eyes. He looked between the two of them.

"Wait," Cirilla was already saying as Jaskier turned and started off down the hall. Geralt watched as she pushed through the door, pushed him out of the way, and jogged after him. "Jaskier, it's not- "

Her voice died down as they both disappeared around a corner. Geralt frowned and closed the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> geralt getting distracted by the first cute boy he meets... what a mood  
> anyway jaskier is a dork and geralt is soft

Jaskier was very obviously angry with him and Geralt had no idea why. He was helping him. He tried asking Cirilla, but she just turned and walked away. Great, he’d thought bitterly, it’d barely taken three days for the kingdom to turn on him and he didn’t even know. A new record.

He ignored it for a couple days, only seeing Jaskier for seconds at a time, because whenever he arrived at the dining room or library and saw him, he’d always gather his things and leave the room.

Balweic was present for a couple of the incidents, but he never said anything.

Geralt was feeling- _something_. Keyed up, like he had energy he couldn’t get rid of. Thankfully, he had the distraction of finding and talking to Triss.

She agreed readily, following him out into the garden.

Geralt had learned his lesson about talking to people in his room. (Though he still wasn’t sure why that had been a problem because Jaskier wouldn’t fucking talk to him.)

“Geralt?” Triss asked softly, pulling him from his thoughts. She was looking at him with kind, worried eyes.

He sighed. Maybe Cirilla was right- she probably had nothing to do with Jaskier’s current situation. But there was no harm in still checking. He squared his shoulders. “We should sit,” he said tersely.

Triss almost smiled, looking curious, as she sat and he joined her. “Did something happen?” she asked, tilting her head. “Balweic told me about the book in the library. Have you found it?”

Geralt shook his head. “I haven’t, no. I… I had a few other questions.”

“Okay,” she replied.

Geralt looked away and stared at a budding flower, swaying in the wind. “How long have you worked for Balweic?” he asked.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Well, I started when Jaskier was just a baby. Why?”

Geralt nodded, filing that information away for later. “Cirilla mentioned you’d always been… close with Balweic, and Jaskier when he was a kid, too.” Triss stared at him, waiting. “Is something going on between you and the king, Triss?” he asked, finally.

She bristled. “Wh- ” she stood up. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Geralt pressed his lips together. Bingo. “It is,” he said, “if only because I’m trying to help his son, and you know that.”

Triss frowned down at him. “You’re wrong,” she said after a moment. “I- I might have feelings for him, but there is nothing going on.” She looked away. “Anything else?”

“And how do you feel about him stepping down?” he asked. “Jaskier taking his place.”

Triss looked at him again. “I told you, Jaskier is a kind person. He’ll be a great king.”

Geralt searched her faces. She was telling the truth, but. “He might be a great king,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t mean you want him to be king.”

A guard poked his head out into the garden. “Triss, the king is calling for you,” he said.

Triss smiled tightly. “Thank you.” She waited until the door closed again and glared at Geralt. “I wish you luck in finding the culprit, but I’m not sure I’m interested in helping anymore,” she said, turning around and stomping away.

Geralt sighed lightly and leaned back, staring up at the sky.

Well, that had been incredibly helpful. _Not._

Geralt stood outside the door to Jaskier’s room, the guards staring at him oddly.

“Do you need help, sir?” one of them asked finally.

He shook his head. “Just, uh- thinking,” he replied lamely.

The guard just stared at him. Scrubbing his hand over his face, Geralt sighed heavily and knocked on the door. He didn’t wait for a reply, not that Jaskier could give much of one, before opening the door.

Jaskier looked up from his bed and bristled, glaring daggers.

Geralt closed the door behind him and leaned against it. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he said blandly, “but I have a job to do and that’s what I’m interested in doing.”

Jaskier pursed his lips. Walking over, Geralt stopped at the foot of his bed.

“I think Triss might have something to do with it,” he explained, straight to the point.

Jaskier’s expression fell, no longer angry. He scrambled for the papers on his bedside table, dropping a few, and grabbed his quill, dipping it. _She was like a mother to me. I don’t believe it._

“I do think she cares about you,” he answered, “but she cares for your father more.”

Jaskier frowned, hard lines forming at the corners of his mouth. _I won't believe it without evidence. Or a confession._

“Denial won’t help you, Your Highness,” he drawled.

Jaskier grabbed the piece of paper and balled it up, throwing it at him.

_Get out,_ he wrote.

“No,” Geralt said, picking up the piece of paper and walking around, perching on the edge of the bed beside Jaskier. “I don’t understand why you’re so mad at me. I’ve only been trying to help.”

Jaskier looked away. _You’re claiming my loved ones cursed me. I have a right to be mad._

Geralt looked away, too. “But I have the feeling that’s not all,” he said, thinking of the other night. “You were going to ask me something the other night,” he continued. “Well, here I am.”

He looked at Jaskier, who fidgeted with the quill in his hand, staring at the blank paper.

“You won’t know my answer until I ask,” he said.

Jaskier licked his lips and put the quill to the paper. _I was going to ask if you wanted to attend the party with me._

“I… don’t understand,” Geralt said. “I thought you didn’t want to go.”

Jaskier shrugged sharply. _I didn’t say that. And who knows, it might be fun. I think I need a little fun right now._

“Okay,” he agreed easily enough. “It’ll make keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious easier if you’re close to me,” he decided.

Jaskier frowned for a second before he shook his head and smiled. _Of course._

“So… you’re not upset anymore?” he asked slowly.

Jaskier looked up. _No,_ he wrote, _I’m okay. I’m sorry._

Geralt shrugged. “You’re under a lot of stress right now. I understand.”

_By the way, your outfit is finished._ Jaskier pointed at a stack of clothes in a chair. _They were delivered this morning. I just didn’t know how to tell you,_ he admitted with a sheepish look.

Geralt almost smiled. “Thank you, Jaskier.” He stood up and walked over, gathering the clothes in his arms. “For the record, I think this party will aid a lot in finding the culprit.”

Jaskier smiled back, a little forced. _Yay._

A couple days later, Geralt was getting ready for the party when Jaskier knocked at his door, a few guards surrounding him. He raised an eyebrow and the younger man smiled sheepishly.

Well, whatever. He followed him down the busy halls, eyeing all the patrons.

A lot of royalty from other kingdoms, a few others Geralt couldn’t place.

He leaned over and ducked down, whispering into Jaskier’s ear, low enough the guards couldn’t hear. “Who are these people?” he asked bluntly.

Jaskier smiled, just a hint. He gestured for his things and a guard handed them over. He dipped his quill. _Honestly, I don’t even know. Ask my father._

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully. “Does your father not tell you anything?”

He knew it was a sore spot as soon as Jaskier stiffened, shoulders hunching up to his ears. _Not really, no._

Geralt nodded, looking away. “Well, he should,” he said gruffly. “You will be a ruler soon. If he thinks he’s protecting you, he’s mistaken.”

Something - Jaskier, he realized - tugged on his arm. Looking over, he saw the big smile on Jaskier’s smile, eyes bright.

“Wh- what?” he asked quickly.

_Thank you._ He bit his bottom lip and looked ahead just as they stopped in front of a door. Geralt could hear the telltale signs of a party even through the doors- people talking, cheering, drinks clinking together, someone singing.

The guards walked around them and opened the doors, bowing lightly.

Jaskier flushed and hurried through the doors, Geralt following after him.

Geralt watched, off to the side, as Balweic walked over and greeted his son, hugging him. He’d never seen the king show open affection for his son before- he assumed the watchful eyes had a lot to do with it.

“I’m glad you joined us, Geralt,” he said as he pulled back.

He grunted in reply. Balweic smiled at him for a second before looking at his son, clapping him on the shoulders.

“Have fun,” he said before turning and walking off.

Geralt noticed the frown on Jaskier’s face and cleared his throat. Jaskier looked over at him, softening. “I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I need a beer.”

Jaskier grinned, nodding quickly.

Geralt leaned against a wall with Jaskier, sipping his beer and scanning the crowds. A lot of the patrons kept looking their way but that wasn’t surprising given that he was a witcher and this was Jaskier’s party.

He looked at Jaskier and noticed he was staring at the bard, playing his heart out. He wasn’t frowning, exactly, but almost.

“You know,” he started conversationally, “you’ll be able to do whatever you want when you’re king.”

Usually, he hated that fact- most kings were selfish and cruel, but Jaskier was different. Jaskier looked over at him and smiled, a little sad.

_I don’t know about that. Even with my father out of power, he’ll never approve._ He took a deep breath and shrugged. _It’s messed up, I know, but sometimes I can’t wait until-_

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. Geralt nudged him with his shoulder. “I understand,” he said. “But he is your father. He might have issues, but he takes care of you.”

Jaskier sighed softly. _He does._

The bard changed tunes and Jaskier lit up. He grabbed Geralt’s arm, tugging insistently. Geralt knew what he was asking without saying a word. He firmly shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Balweic was watching them.

“We shouldn’t,” he added after a moment.

Jaskier’s bottom lip jutted out in a pout. He tugged on his arm open and mouthed _please?_

Fuck, how was he supposed to deny him anything when he looked at him like that? Geralt set his beer down. “One song,” he stressed. “Understand?”

Beaming, Jaskier dragged him out into the crowds of dancing people. Geralt was not a dancer, but he swayed as Jaskier went crazy, jumping and spinning around, looking the happiest Geralt had ever seen him.

He smirked as Jaskier almost fell and he caught him. “Calm down.”

Jaskier grinned up at him sheepishly, nodding. He pulled out of his arms and started dancing again. A few of the guests watched him, mostly amused, some with judgment.

Geralt watched him, too, barely even swaying now. He forgot all about his mission, why he was here, focused entirely on the dancing, goofy prince in front of him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally an update!! i hope y'all enjoy <3

The party quieted down after that. Geralt sat at a table with Jaskier, sipping on his beer and watching the crowds, searching for anyone suspicious.

So far he’d had no luck.

It seemed like it wasn’t just his own, but even people from other kingdoms liked Jaskier. They’d been approaching him all night with congratulations.

Geralt noticed Jaskier was getting all fidgety again and frowned, leaning closer.

“Is everything okay?”

Jaskier opened his mouth, closed it. Picked up his quill. _I’m supposed to be giving a speech. It’s tradition._

Geralt nodded, understanding. “But you can’t.”

_But I can’t,_ Jaskier confirmed, staring at the stage at the back of the ballroom, decorated beautifully just like every other inch of the room.

“I’m sure the townsfolk will understand,” he said.

Jaskier shrugged weakly just as the music stopped, the bard lowering his instrument. Balweic walked up onto the stage, head held high.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he greeted politely. “Welcome, and thank you for attending the coronation of my only son, Jaskier.”

All eyes in the room turned on Jaskier, who slumped in his chair.

“Normally, I’d invite him up on stage for his speech, as per traditional, but…”

“But what?” a voice called out from the crowd.

Jaskier covered his face with his hands and Geralt was hit with the sudden, unexpected urge to protect him. He couldn’t, though, so he just sat, watching as Balweic smiled tightly.

“My son is currently… struggling with a few things,” he explained.

“A future king, who won’t even address his people?” another voice piped up.

Geralt bit back a retort. Idiots, the lot of them.

Balweic sighed heavily. “He would be up here if he could,” he said tersely. “Please, just- ”

_“Sounds like he’s lazy-”_

_“Probably doesn’t even want to be king- ”_

_“He’s always been a bit odd- ”_

Jaskier stood up suddenly, pushing his chair back across the floor with a screech. Everyone was staring at him again as he turned and stormed out of the ballroom, including Geralt.

He stood up and glanced at the king, who nodded curtly.

Turning away, he followed Jaskier out of the room and down the hall. Jaskier hadn’t gone very far before slumping against a wall and burying his face in his hands, shoulders shaking.

“Jaskier,” he said.

He didn’t look up, but his shoulders stilled.

“Are you okay?” he asked dumbly.

Jaskier finally looked up, eyes red and puffy. He hadn’t grabbed any paper or quill before storming out, so all he could do was communicate with his eyes and Geralt- well, he was hearing the message loud and clear.

“Come on,” he said gruffly. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

Jaskier sniffed, once, before nodding. Geralt started off in the direction of the prince’s room, and Jaskier followed, lingering a few steps behind.

They reached Jaskier’s room and Geralt turned away with a quick nod, intending to return to the party. Or, more likely, his own room.

He was stopped by Jaskier’s fingers curling around his wrist.

Geralt didn’t know if this was a good idea, but he nodded. “Okay.”

The guards opened the door for them and they both stepped into Jaskier’s room. Jaskier walked over and sat on his bed, patting the spot beside him insistently. Geralt knew that was a bad idea, but he walked over and joined him, anyway.

Reaching over, Jaskier grabbed the stack of papers off his bedside table along with his quill.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said suddenly, surprising even himself.

Jaskier looked up, a curious look on his face.

“I… I kind of got… distracted tonight.” _By you._ “I wasn’t really paying attention and sadly I have no new leads worth reporting.”

Jaskier smiled softly. _It’s okay._

“It isn’t,” Geralt replied quickly. “You were attacked tonight because of _my_ failings.”

Jaskier pressed his lips together and stared down at the empty page in front of him, where he’d scribbled _It’s okay_ in a corner. _You’re right. It’s not okay. But this has nothing to do with you. Nothing was okay long before you showed up._

Geralt frowned. “What do you mean?”

_They’re not wrong, you know,_ he scribbled almost frantically, _I never wanted to be king._

Geralt was taken back, genuinely. He’d never even considered that. “You don’t?” he asked in disbelief. “But…” Power, women, men, riches. He never imagined a person out there could not want those things, no matter the price.

Jaskier looked up, cheeks a little flushed from crying. He simply nodded.

“Does your father know?” he prompted, uncharacteristically soft.

Jaskier shrugged sharply. _I’ve never said the words, but probably. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I don’t have a choice._

“Jaskier,” he said, soft but firm. “You _always_ have a choice. I don’t believe in many things, but that is one of them.”

He looked away and sniffled. Shaking his head, he picked the quill back up. _That’s easy for you to say. You’re not being watched by hundreds of eyes. You’re not royalty. Nothing's expected of you._

Geralt snorted quietly. “Thank the Gods,” he said. “I might not know exactly what you’re going through, Your Highness,” he said, “but witchers haven’t always had it easy, either, and _that_ choice was also taken from me at a very young age.”

Jaskier visibly winced. _I’m sorry,_ he scribbled quickly, _I shouldn’t have-_

Geralt reached out, grabbing his hand and stopping him. “It’s okay.”

_Is it?_ he wrote without even looking, staring into Geralt’s eyes. Geralt swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. He nodded. “It will be,” he said. “One thing at a time,” he continued.

Jaskier slowly turned his hand over and silently their fingers slotted together.

“Jaskier,” he said. “I should go.”

There were so many reasons this was a bad- outright stupid- idea. Jaskier was going to be a king soon and Geralt was a witcher, still frowned upon by half the continent. Not to mention, Geralt had no plans of sticking around after everything was finished.

He needed Jaskier to know that. “Jaskier, I- ”

Lurching forward, Jaskier slammed their lips together almost painfully. Geralt reached down, instinctively, and steadied them, his hands on Jaskier’s hips. “Ja- ” he breathed against his lips.

Jaskier just kissed him again, shutting him up. Geralt’s fingers twitched against his hips. This was a bad idea. The worst of ideas. Jaskier reached up, digging his fingers in Geralt’s hair.

But _fuck_ , Geralt wanted it.

Geralt was woken by the sound of knocking then- “what is going on here?!”

He sat up and for a moment he was just as confused before memories of last night came crashing back to him. Jaskier’s fingers in his hair, pulling. Geralt’s teeth on Jaskier’s neck and shoulders.

Jaskier’s cock, warm in his hand. _Fuck_.

Balweic glared at him from the door. Geralt swallowed thickly. “Fuck.”

“What is going on here?” he repeated.

Geralt noticed Jaskier out of the corner of his eye, fidgeting with the end of the blanket. He couldn’t speak, and right now he looked in no condition to be writing, which meant- fuck, Geralt was going to have to explain things.

“Sir,” he started. “This-” Well, he couldn’t very well say it _wasn’t_ what it looked like. “Is Jaskier not allowed to sleep with who he wants?”

Okay, not the best approach, judging by the look on Balweic’s face, but Geralt’s brain was still half asleep, okay? He stomped closer and called for the guards, who entered after him.

“Jaskier, first- first your stupid obsession with that damned lute and singing, and now _this?”_ he said, glaring at his own son, Geralt forgotten for the moment. “I’ve told you how I felt about- ” he gestured vaguely at Geralt “- this _lifestyle_ of yours. And the witcher on top of it all, really?”

Geralt frowned. “Hey,” he said. Balweic turned on him, eyes fiery. “ _This_ \- ” he said slowly “- is not a lifestyle, sir. It’s who your son is.”

“I will not be told who my son is from a stranger,” he spit. “Guards, show him to the door and do not, under any circumstances, let the witcher back in. If I even see a _glimpse_ of his face again, fired- all of you.”

Geralt stiffened. Jaskier crawled to the end of the bed, quick. He grabbed at his father’s coat, who just slapped his hands away.

“You will never be king you keep acting like this,” his father said. “Guards!”

Geralt stood up, hands in the air. One of the guards grabbed him, a firm hand on his shoulder. He could fight, but truthfully he didn’t want to do that to Jaskier. For maybe the first time ever, he didn’t want someone to see his hands bloody.

Jaskier scrambled out of the bed and to his feet. He tried running to Geralt, but his father grabbed his arm. The guards pushed Geralt in the direction of the door.

“You should be lucky I’m not locking him up,” his father said lowly, “or worse.”

Jaskier struggled against his father’s grip. Geralt didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

They had the decency of letting Roach go, at least. Geralt stared at her, a sharp pain in his chest. “Maybe the best thing I could do for him is just- leave,” he said. “I told them from the start they’d have better luck with a mage of some kind.”

Roach neighed and nudged him with her snout.

“I know,” he sighed. “I know, but we can’t… I don’t want to hurt him.”

Roach pulled back and snorted loudly, stomping. She was obviously very opinionated, and she _had_ warmed up to Jaskier surprisingly fast. Geralt almost smiled as he reached out and scratched behind one of her ears.

“Thanks, Roach,” he said. He knew what he needed to do.

Geralt looked up when he heard footsteps after waiting for almost an hour.

“Hey,” he greeted gruffly. “Um. Thanks for coming?”

Yennefer tugged down her hood, revealing a familiar head of dark, wild curls. “This has _better_ be good,” she said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dun  
> reminder to follow me on twitter @ queermight

“You called me out here… because of a cursed prince?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why? You getting rusty - can’t save the poor little royal on your own?”

Geralt ignored the spark of anger he always felt around Yennefer when she was being difficult. “I tried,” he replied gruffly, “and I _could_ but… there’s a problem.”

“Well?” she prompted. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Geralt hadn’t seen Yennefer in months, not since they parted ways after their fight. “I don’t know how to say this,” he said slowly. He had always imagined, one day, seeing her again and getting back together. There was no doubt in his mind that was his destiny.

But now he wasn’t so sure. He closed his eyes briefly and saw Jaskier.

“Spit it out,” she said.

Geralt opened his eyes. “I slept with him,” he admitted.

Yennefer’s arms fell to her side. “What?” she asked in disbelief. “You slept with… the prince?” Geralt squared his shoulders, preparing for the worst. “So, was it an one time thing or do you want to do it again?”

He had been expecting anything but that. “What?” he blurted, staring at her like she was crazy.

“Well,” she said. “I’m assuming you want to do it again, which is why you called me.” She smirked, amused. “Geralt, do you have _feelings_ … for the prince? How ironic, considering your overt hatred for royalty.”

Geralt’s hands curled into fists. “Okay, I didn’t say _that_.”

“Hmm, I know,” she replied, eyes sparkling. “I’m just good at reading you.”

Geralt sighed and looked away. “Will you help me or not?” he asked gruffly.

“I don’t know,” Yennefer said. “Should I?”

Geralt looked at her, brows furrowed together in confusion. “What?”

“Geralt,” she said. “I will help if you tell me the truth. Is there something special about this boy?”

He stared at her, unblinking. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

Yennefer stared back, not backing down. “ _Do_ you have feelings for him?”

Geralt huffed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I don’t know!” he snapped. His hand fell. “I don’t know,” he repeated, quieter. “Maybe.”

“Okay,” she said. “Where do we start?”

Geralt relaxed a bit. “Well, I can’t go back in there - the king, Balweic, threatened not only me but his guards. So.” He paused, letting the implication linger in the air.

“I need to get in there and figure out what’s going on,” she finished knowingly.

Geralt nodded curtly. “If you can just find who you think it is, we should be able to do something about it.”

Yennefer hmmed. “Okay, but first,” she stepped forward and pressed a hand to Geralt’s cheek, startling him. He stared into her eyes, a little unsure. “Don’t worry,” she said with a smirk, “I’m not going to kiss you.”

He grunted. “I have a reason to be suspicious, no?”

She rolled her eyes and leaned up, pressing their foreheads together. Geralt listened as she whispered something, low and quiet.

 _Okay,_ she said as she pulled back except… her mouth never opened. _Working?_

Geralt blinked. “What the fuck did you just do?”

“It’s a minor spell, calm down,” she stepped back. “This way, we can be in contact.”

“So, I can…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

“We can both hear each other’s thoughts,” she said. “So, preferably if you can keep your thoughts of the prince - ” _Jaskier_ , he said, directly into her mind “ - Jaskier to a minimum, it’d be greatly appreciated.”

He rolled his eyes and looked away. “Just go.”

When he looked back, Yennefer was nowhere to be seen. Geralt took a shaky breath and slumped against a tree. _Please_ , he thought, wondering briefly if Yennefer could hear him, let this work.

Yennefer used a bit of magic but soon she was allowed through the doors. A guard was leading the way. She followed, glancing around for anything worth noting. So far, nothing.

“This is the king’s quarters,” the guard said, stopping and gesturing down a hall.

Yennefer smiled tightly and with a quick movement of her right hand the guard was frozen. “Thank you,” she said without even a look in his direction as she walked down the hall.

She peeked in every door, most empty. Until, finally, she heard movement behind a door and paused, listening.

 _Have you found anything?_ Geralt’s voice echoed through her mind.

 _Not yet,_ she said, a bit snappy. _Wait_.

She heard footsteps and spun around. A young man with dark hair and striking blue eyes. “Hello,” she greeted slowly, just quiet enough to hopefully not be heard through the door. She stepped forward.

_Geralt, what does the prince look like?_

He answered not even a beat later, _dark hair, blue eyes, lanky._

“You must be the prince,” she continued after a beat, smiling politely.

Jaskier eyed her and the frozen guard skeptically. He was holding papers under his arm and a quill in his dominant hand. He shifted things around and scribbled _I might be, who are you?_

She stepped closer. “Yennefer, but you can call me Yen.” Jaskier stared at her, unnerving. “I’m a friend of Geralt’s.”

Jaskier’s shoulders slumped. _You are?_ he scribbled messily. _Is he okay?_

“He’s fine,” she assured him, glancing back at the closed door. When she turned back around, Jaskier had written something else.

 _Did he send you to help me?_ He stared at her with an almost hopeful look.

Yennefer almost smiled. _How cute,_ she sent straight to Geralt, _I think the poor thing has feelings for you, too._

 _Shut up,_ he sent back.

“He did,” she answered quietly. “Do you mind if we… pick this up later?”

Jaskier glanced over her shoulder. _If you’re looking for the culprit, why are you sneaking around my father’s quarters?_

Yennefer opened her mouth, closed it. “Just a formality,” she answered tersely. “Go,” she said. “Before we both get caught.”

He hesitated for just a second before nodding. _Tell Geralt I -_ he started writing, but Yennefer reached out and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. He startled and looked up.

“You can tell him yourself,” she said, “later.”

Jaskier chewed on the inside of his cheek before nodding again and turning around, leaving. Yennefer sighed lightly and went back to the door.

Leaning against the door, she listened with a bit of help from magic.

From what she could gather there was only one person in the room and all she could hear was the occasional sound of sloshing, like liquid being poured. Frowning, she stepped back.

 _Anything?_ Geralt asked.

Yennefer almost groaned. _You are so impatient. Wait._

Turning around, she paused, catching a smell of something from through the door. Her nose burned with it. It was magical, no doubt. She spun on her heels and sniffed.

“What the fuck,” she whispered.

She filed the information away for later and turned around, leaving the hall. She had other places to search.

She spied on Triss for a bit, but the woman didn’t do much of anything. She was, in her opinion, a dead end. She told Geralt that and he didn’t seem surprised.

Yennefer checked on Jaskier before leaving, stepping out into the garden and sitting on a bench. _Okay, Geralt, now you can be annoying._

 _Fuck you,_ he sent quickly. _So, anything?_

Yennefer hmmed. _Maybe_ , she sent back. _I smelled something weird in the king’s quarters._

_What do you mean, weird?_

Yennefer looked up at the sky and squinted, thinking. _It was potent magic. Not of the good variety._

_So, who was messing with it?_

Yennefer sighed loudly. _I didn’t throw the door open, Geralt. Unlike you, I actually think things through and don’t act purely on instinct._

_But -_

_I’ll stick around for breakfast and see what I can find._

There was a lull in the conversation. _What if you get caught?_ he said finally.

Yennefer smiled to herself. _Have you met me? I can take care of myself. Anyway, the king might be a king but he’s still a man. I probably won’t even need a lick of magic to convince him to let me stay._

 _Gross,_ Geralt sent back.

Geralt was just barely hidden by the forest, tucked away behind trees with Roach. He watched the castle all night, unable to sleep. He tried making contact with Yennefer, but she never replied, probably asleep though he wondered where.

He thought of Jaskier. How would he react if it _was_ his father?

His stomach lurched painfully at the thought - at the thought that Jaskier might be hurt by it. Geralt sighed and looked over at the Roach.

“Parents, good for nothing,” he said. Roach neighed in reply.

Yennefer finally contacted him in the early hours of the morning. _I’m headed to breakfast now._

Geralt jumped up and walked closer to the edge of the forest, peeking at the castle through a clearing in the trees. _Keep me updated,_ he sent back, _every second._

 _Not happening,_ she sent back.

Geralt groaned, hitting his head against one of the trees.

Yennefer walked to the dining room and smiled at the guards, who squinted at her but opened the doors. She walked in and noticed Jaskier immediately and, then, her eyes landed on the king, Balweic, sitting at the head of the table, a crown balanced on his head.

“Who is this?” Balweic asked the guards, eyeing Yennefer openly.

Her skin crawled but she stepped forward and smiled politely. “Yen.”

“Is this one of your… _women_ , Jaskier?” he asked, looking over at him.

Jaskier quickly shook his head. Yennefer took a deep breath and folded her hands together in front of her. Guilty or not, she wanted to break the damned king’s neck.

“I’m new around here,” she said, all lies. “I stumbled here after getting lost. I - I had no money for an inn and one of your guards, bless him, told me I could stay the night.”

Balweic glanced at the guards. One of them nodded, and Yennefer smiled sweetly.

“Well, a king never turns away a citizen in need,” he said. “Please, sit.”

Yennefer walked over and sat across from Jaskier. Jaskier looked at her, curious, but didn’t say - or, well, write - anything. He looked down and picked at his food, obviously not very hungry.

Yennefer ate a little bit, just to be polite.

“More juice,” the king called to one of the maids, who nodded and scurried off.

Yennefer watched idly as the maid ran off and returned with a rolling cart of two pitchers. She blinked when the maid got closer and the sharp smell of magic hit her again, just like last night.

She zeroed in on the pitchers as the maid picked one up and poured Balweic’s drink then set it back on the cart, picking up the other pitcher.

At first she wondered if it was just the maid herself but as she finished up she shared a look with Balweic.

Yennefer’s heart thumped in her chest. _Geralt, we were right. It’s the king._

 _What?_ he sent back. _Fuck, I’m coming up there._

 _Wait!_ she sent back. _Don’t just barge in. Give me a couple hours._

There was a long pause. _Fine,_ he said finally. _I’m trusting you, Yen._

Yennefer stood up and smiled politely. Balweic smiled back at her. “Do you need something?”

“Just the washroom,” she answered, turning away and leaving the room.


	7. Chapter 7

Geralt jumped up as soon as he saw Yennefer, walking down the path toward the line of trees. He grabbed her arm as soon as she was close enough and pulled her into the trees.

“So?” he asked, just on the edge of frantic.

Yennefer rolled her eyes and pulled her arm free. “I talked to Jaskier,” she said. “He didn’t believe me and I can’t say that’s unreasonable. He doesn’t have a reason to.”

Geralt nodded curtly. “But we need his help if - ”

“I know,” she intercepted breezily, “which is why you’ll be seeing him tonight.”

He blinked once. “What? In case you forgot I’m banned from ever setting foot in that castle again.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes again. “Are you stupid, Geralt? Really?” He frowned, but she just continued, “I told him to meet you in the market after dark tonight.”

“But he’ll have guards with him,” he pointed out.

Yennefer sighed. “Just trust me, okay?” Geralt stared at her for a moment before nodding. “Good, because I hope you’re well aware that if you can’t convince him it’s his father, we can’t help him.”

“I know!” he snapped. He took a deep breath. “I know.”

She nodded. “Good,” she repeated, eyeing him with open judgment. “Now… you might want to wash off.”

Geralt leveled her with a look. “Really, Yen?”

“Yes, really,” she said primly. “You’re trying to convince him to be on our side, not scare him away with your stink.”

Geralt scoffed, almost a laugh. “Fucking fine,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m going to the stream.”

Geralt washed off and admittedly kind of felt like he needed it. He was feeling marginally better when he crawled out of the stream and dried off. It was also perfect timing since the sun was just starting to set.

After dressing, he jumped on Roach and set off in the direction of the market. It was empty when he arrived, predictably.

He climbed off Roach and tied her lead to a pole. She neighed, upset, but he just scratched behind one of her ears.

When he heard footsteps, he spun on his heels, already reaching for his sword. But it was just Jaskier, like promised, no guards in sight. He relaxed slowly. “Jaskier.”

Jaskier stepped closer. He only had one piece of paper with him, which struck him as odd but he didn’t say as much.

“How did you get away from everyone?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Jaskier shrugged and stepped closer, stopping in front of Geralt. He held up the piece of paper where words had already been scribbled in advance. _I lost them and not easily. They’ll probably find me soon, so get to talking._

Geralt nodded and leaned on Roach. He hadn’t actually considered what he was going to say. Yennefer was right; they had two entirely different ways of dealing with things.

He just jumped right in and hoped for the best. Yennefer smartly planned things out.

“Yen said she saw a maid pour something, heavily potent, in your morning drink,” he started and Jaskier frowned, listening. “Thankfully she said if it’s being given daily that means it’s not a curse, just a spell. If you stop drinking it, it should wear off in a few days.”

Jaskier licked his lips and looked away. Sighing, he looked down.

“I know you don’t want to believe it’s your father,” he continued, a little softer, “but you need to, Jaskier. I can’t help you if you’re in denial and pushing me away.”

Jaskier looked up and Geralt noticed for the first time the tears in his eyes. His heart squeezed painfully. He realized with a sudden, sharp clarity that he never wanted to see Jaskier cry again.

“Let me help you,” he finished quietly and reached down, taking one of Jaskier’s hand.

Jaskier sniffled and squeezed his hand weakly.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, just to be sure.

Jaskier looked up and nodded. Geralt leaned down and paused, their faces just a few inches apart. He asked silent permission, staring into Jaskier’s eyes. Jaskier smiled, soft and just a little sad, and pressed their lips together.

After that, he pulled Jaskier with him to find Yennefer.

“Do that brain thing on him,” he said, nodding at Jaskier. “We need to have a way to keep in contact.”

Jaskier was looking around frantically, obviously in fear of being found by his guards. Geralt wrapped an arm around his shoulders and that calmed him down a little.

“I don’t know if it’ll work, given the circumstances,” she said.

Geralt rubbed his hand up and down Jaskier’s arm. “Could it hurt him?”

“Well, no,” she said.

Geralt nodded. “Try.”

Yennefer nodded and stepped forward, leaning in and pressing their foreheads together. Geralt ignored the unreasonable spark of jealously in the pit of his stomach.

Stepping back, she nodded. “Say something. In your brain.”

Jaskier looked confused but nodded. Yennefer almost smiled, just a split second of upturned lips. “It’s working,” she turned to Geralt. “Your turn.”

She repeated it with Geralt before pressing a hand to Geralt’s shoulder. “Press your foreheads together,” she instructed and he nodded, leaning down and pressing his forehead against Jaskier’s.

Yennefer hovered a hand over each of their heads. “Okay,” she said after a few seconds. “Finished. Try it.”

Geralt gulped. For some reason he was beyond nervous. _Hey_.

Jaskier stared back at him and he looked equally as nervous if not more. Geralt reached out and grabbed his hands, holding them.

“Come on,” he said. “You can do it.”

Jaskier nodded slowly. _Hi, Geralt._

His voice was - not what he’d been expecting, frankly, because it was even better. His voice was loud, just naturally, and full. A little nasally, but Geralt couldn’t think of that as a bad thing.

Geralt barely realized he was grinning until Yennefer smacked his arm. “You’re scaring him,” she chided, but she was smirking, obviously amused.

He looked down at Jaskier, who looked scared but for other reasons, nervously fidgeting.

“Your voice is - ” he started, but he was interrupted by the sound of hooves on gravel, drawing closer. Geralt turned around and peered through the darkness, using his enhanced senses. “Fuck, it’s guards from the castle.”

_Really?_ Jaskier asked.

Geralt placed a hand on the small of Jaskier’s back and pushed, gently. “Go.”

_But I -_

“Go, Jaskier, we can talk later. We don’t want them getting suspicious and connecting the dots.”

Jaskier hesitated for just a second longer before running out of the woods. Geralt listened as he made contact with the guards, who scolded him. Finally, the sounds died down as the guards took Jaskier back to the castle.

“You know,” Yennefer said once it was safe, “I don’t think you ever grinned at me like that.”

Geralt shrugged sharply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmmm,” she said, staring at him knowingly. He hated it. “I think you do.”

_So, what do I need to do first?_ Jaskier asked later that night, safely tucked away in his bedroom.

Geralt was sitting around a fire with Yennefer and Roach, eating deer.

Yennefer answered for him, _You need to get me a sample of whatever they’re putting in your drink. A pure sample, preferably, but even just what they’re giving you would help._

_Okay,_ he sent back, _I’ll try seeing what I can find tomorrow._

Yennefer nodded as if he were there, but he wasn’t. Geralt was painfully aware of that fact. _When you caught me in your father’s quarters, do you remember the door I was standing in front of? Check there._

Geralt’s stomach lurched as he finished cleaning his bone, tossing it into the fire. _Be safe, Jaskier. If you think you’re in danger at any point, just stop and give up._

There was a pause before Jaskier finally replied. _I will, Geralt. Thank you._

He still wasn’t used to hearing his voice. He wished and hoped for the day he could hear it for real, straight out of his mouth.

“We should sleep,” Yennefer said. “Tomorrow might be a busy day.”

Geralt nodded curtly. He stomped out the fire and pulled his blanket out of his bag. He laid down with Yennefer, sharing the blanket. For the first time maybe ever he had no urge to do anything with Yennefer.

_Jaskier?_

_Yeah?_

_Goodnight._

_Goodnight, Geralt._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another gentle reminder/push to follow me on twitter @ queermight

Geralt was not used to being the one doing the waiting. He decided he didn’t like it. He was sitting down, fidgeting with his sword, sharpening it, mostly just for a distraction.

“Gods, can you stop that for two seconds?”

He looked up into Yennefer’s face. He grunted and tossed the rock he’d been using, not dignifying her with more of an answer.

“I know you’re stressed,” she said, stretching her legs out and nudging him with her foot. “But calm down.”

Geralt stared down at his sword. “I can’t,” he said finally. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Yennefer’s concern - pity - was unexpected and not entirely welcomed. She sighed softly. “He’s going to be fine,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder at the castle. “If he contacts us at any point and we think he’s in danger, we’ll forget my way and storm the castle. Okay?”

“Hmm,” he grunted in reply.

Yennefer rolled her eyes and drew her knees up to her chest. “Geralt, I don’t - ” she sighed and started over. “Do you think you were ever really in love with me?” she asked, startling him.

He looked up curtly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, “did we ever have real feelings for each other?”

Geralt frowned. He remembered last night, how being near Yennefer had felt like nothing at all. He’d experienced none of his usual urges or desires. “I don’t know. Why?”

She smiled almost sadly. “I think we were attracted to each other and I think…” she looked down with a shrug. “I think we both wanted to be loved and so we went with it, reality be damned.”

Geralt stared at her. “So?”

“So,” Yennefer said sharply, looking back up. “I want you to know I think you should go for it.”

“What are you - ”

She sighed loudly. “You know what I’m talking about,” she interrupted breezily. “You have feelings for this man. It’s obvious. I saw it last night… the way you smiled at him, Geralt, it was - ”

“He’s going to be a king,” he interrupted right back. “I’m a witcher. Have you lost your mind over these last few years, Yen?”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “Since when you have given a fuck about what was proper?” she asked, folding her arms on top of her knees. “You’re Geralt of Rivia, rules and niceties mean nothing to you.”

Geralt’s upper lip twitched, almost a smirk. “Is that an insult or compliment?”

“It’s a fact of life,” she replied. “So don’t play dumb. You want him, and I can tell you he wants you, too. King, witcher, sorceress, human, who cares?”

Geralt opened his mouth to reply -

_Geralt? Yennefer?_

His heart skipped a beat. _Jaskier?_

_I think I found it._

Geralt looked over at Yennefer. _Do you have it?_

_Yes, what should I do with it?_

_Can you bring it to us tonight?_ Yennefer asked, finally joining the conversation.

 _I can try,_ he replied honestly. _But my -_

He was sharply cut off. Geralt’s fingers twitched in his lap. _Jaskier? Jaskier?_ he repeated. _Hey, say something. What’s going on?_ He looked over at Yennefer with wide eyes. “He’s not responding.”

 _Jaskier,_ she tried, _say something before Geralt tries to do something dumb._

Nothing. Yennefer closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Geralt, don’t - ” but he was already standing up. She opened her eyes and stood up. “We don’t know that he wasn’t just distracted by something.”

“He could’ve been caught, Yen,” he shot back. “We have to do something.”

Yennefer sighed and looked away. “This is so dumb,” she muttered before looking back, squaring her shoulders. “But okay.”

Turning around, she walked to the edge of the woods. Geralt followed her and if she focused she could almost hear the beat of his heart, irregular and worrying. She didn’t mind rushing the castle, really, but not when he was so worked up and off his game.

Thankfully, Jaskier’s voice cut through the tension.

_Sorry! Sorry, my father asked for me and I didn’t know what to do._

Geralt halted to a stop. Yennefer stopped and turned around, watching the relief bloom across his face, slow and steady. _But you’re okay?_

 _Yes,_ he replied. _I’ll try and meet you both tonight._

Geralt sighed softly and scrubbed a hand down his face. _Okay, be safe._

 _Always,_ he sent back, almost coyly. _I’ll see you soon, Geralt._

“I don’t need or even crave a man’s attention,” Yennefer said, smirking, “but really?”

Geralt looked up and shrugged with a sheepish tilt of his mouth. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m well aware men only think with their dicks.”

Geralt waited in the market, like before, and let out a sigh of relief when he saw Jaskier approaching by himself.

“Hey,” he greeted.

Yennefer stepped out from the shadows. “You weren’t followed?”

 _No,_ Jaskier replied. _I was very sneaky, I’ll have you know._

Geralt noticed, with a start, that Yennefer actually smiled at him, not a smirk. She walked over. “So, where is it?”

He watched as Jaskier pulled a small vial out of his bag. _I think that’s it? It was in my father’s study._

Yennefer took the vial and hmmed, examining it with critical eyes. Geralt watched her every movement with bated breath, waiting. She opened it and sniffed, sneezing right after.

“Fuck,” she said, putting the lid back on it. “This is stronger than I thought.”

Geralt cleared his throat. “But you know what it is, and how to stop it, right?”

“Yes,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not an amateur, Geralt. But…” Yennefer looked at Jaskier almost sadly. “This stuff is so strong, Jaskier, if your father had used it for too much longer… I might not have been able to reverse it.”

 _You mean…_ Jaskier trailed off, staring at the vial with wide eyes.

“The damage left behind might’ve been irreversible,” she finished quietly.

Jaskier stumbled back and Geralt rushed over, catching him by the arm. He rubbed his back, slow. “It’s okay, Jaskier, she said she can - ”

 _That’s not the problem!_ The words were as loud as a whistle in Geralt’s brain. _He could’ve ruined my life forever! My own father!_

Geralt nodded slowly and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He had no words for the situation.

“Jaskier,” Yennefer said, soft, beckoning him over. “Come here; let me see what I can do.”

He nodded and looked up at Geralt, smiling shakily. Geralt grunted and let go, watching as the young prince walked over to Yennefer. She reached up and cupped the side of his throat.

Jaskier was stiff as a board as he waited patiently.

Geralt listened as Yennefer muttered something under her breath, obviously not English. She squeezed the side of Jaskier’s throat, repeated it. Jaskier was biting his bottom lip, eyes wide.

“Okay,” Yennefer said finally, pulling her hand back. She shook out her hand and cleared her throat. “You should be able to speak now.”

Jaskier shook his head without even trying.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, stepping closer and touching his arm. “You have to try.”

He looked over at him with wide eyes. _But what if -_

“Don’t,” he interrupted. “Just try.”

Jaskier nodded curtly and took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. His lips parted. “I - ” the first word slipped out, rough and choked. He tried again. “I - I can talk,” he breathed, disbelieving.

Geralt was grinning again without even knowing it. He grabbed Jaskier by the shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

Laughing softly, he buried his face in Geralt’s shoulder. “I - I can fucking talk!”

“Hey,” Yennefer said.

Jaskier pulled back and smiled at her, too, bright and full of life. “Thank you, Yen,” he said. “Um. That’s okay, right? Yen?”

Geralt watched as Yennefer smiled, slow and small. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

It was such a happy moment. Geralt should’ve known it wasn’t going to last.

He stiffened when he heard it: hooves on gravel. “Yen,” he said, grabbing her arm. “We need to go.” She opened her mouth to protest. “Now.”

But it was too late; hoards of guards appeared from the shadows, surrounding them. Jaskier startled, looking around with wide eyes. A few of the guards jumped down from their horses, swords drawn and pointed at the witcher. Jaskier’s heart fluttered in his chest.

“Don’t!” he screamed. “As future king, I will have each of you put to death if you lay even a single finger on either of them.”

One of the guards lowered their swords and Geralt realized it was Triss.

“Your Highness,” she breathed. “You’re - you’re talking.”

Jaskier sniffed and held his head high. “I am,” he confirmed. “And now I’m about to walk back to the castle with these two in my stead. You may warn my father if you want but try and stop me and, well.”

Geralt reached up and grasped the handle of his sword.

Yennefer lifted a hand, fingertips sparking with magic.

None of the guards moved or said a word, watching the three of them.

“Well,” Jaskier said. “That’s settled, then.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stuff starts to go down next chap... we're reaching the end folks im both excited and sad

Jaskier seemed significantly more confident with his voice back, which could only be viewed as a good thing, considering their current situation. He walked up the path to the castle with Yennefer and Geralt following closely behind and even further back were the guards, watching their every move.

At the doors, the two guards keeping watch peered at Geralt with dark eyes.

“Don’t,” Jaskier said primly. “Let us in. I need to talk to my father.”

One of the guards looked skeptical still but the other, a woman, opened the doors without a word. Jaskier held his head high as he entered.

_I know I might look really confident right now but I’m freaking the fuck out._

Geralt remembered then that Yennefer had never removed her spell. He assumed it was probably a conscious choice on her part.

_Do you have a plan?_ she asked, thinking logically like always.

_Um, no? I was hoping you guys did._

Geralt took a couple bigger steps and caught up with Jaskier. Yennefer lingered behind and he assumed she had her reasons for that, too. “Hey,” he whispered. “Perhaps we should leave and come back when we’ve conjured up a proper pl - ”

Jaskier stopped suddenly and Geralt realized why when he looked up.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted tersely.

Balweic glared at him, a deep frown on his face. He peered over Geralt’s shoulder. “What is he doing in here?” he asked his guards. “I thought I told you - ”

“Father,” Jaskier said, cutting him off. Balweic looked at Jaskier with wide eyes. “They - ” he gestured at Geralt and behind him at Yennefer, too “ - saved me.”

“Saved you,” he repeated plainly. “You speak as if your life was ever in danger.”

Jaskier’s eyes flashed with something like anger. “I would’ve preferred to _die_ than live the rest of my life without ever singing again,” he said darkly and squared his shoulders.

_I have a plan - to buy us some time, at least,_ he said.

Geralt peered over at him and nodded before looking back at Yennefer, who also nodded silently.

“I thought it was only right we thank them with a good meal and perhaps even a party,” Jaskier said, a little too brightly.

Balweic stared at him, unblinking. “Do you really think that’s necessary?” he asked, forcing a polite smile. “The witcher was simply doing his job; his payment will be in coins, like promised.”

“I’m soon to be king, father,” he said, challenging him. The corners of Geralt’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Should I not be able to make such simple decisions on my own?”

Balweic’s face fell. “Very well,” he said. “A party will be held in their honor.”

“Wonderful,” Jaskier replied brightly, spinning around. He gestured the guards away and they hesitated for a split second before obeying, walking off to their rightful posts. “Now let me show you both where you’ll be staying.”

“Jaskier,” his father said.

He turned back around and smiled, all fake. “ _Yes_ , father?”

“I’d like a word with you after you’ve… helped our guests get comfortable.”

Jaskier, still smiling, nodded and shuffled closer to Geralt, linking their arms together. “Of course, father,” he beamed. Balweic looked down at their arms and cleared his throat before turning and walking away.

Yennefer stepped closer, raising her eyebrows. “I’m impressed,” she said. “That was some good acting.”

Jaskier sighed heavily, but he pointedly did not let go of Geralt’s arm. “I don’t know how long before he gets suspicious, though, so… we’ll need a plan and soon.”

“Well,” Yennfer said and Geralt knew that look on her face meant she had one already. “I think we should have that party.”

Jaskier looked at her oddly. “You do?”

“Hmm,” she replied with a smirk. “Come on,” she hooked her arm through Jaskier’s other arm and tugged lightly. “Let me tell you boys _allll_ about it.”

Yennefer’s plan wasn’t bad, Geralt had to admit. He knew, better than most, how powerful mob mentality could be - he’d lived through a lot of it; one person would throw a rock at him, yelling about him being evil, and others would join in without a second thought.

“But will it be enough?” Jaskier asked, looking between them. “And what do we do after?”

Yennefer leaned back on his bed, crossing her arms. “Throw your dick of a father in the dungeon.”

“I - ” he started before cutting himself off. “Should I?”

He looked at Geralt for guidance and his heart squeezed, reaching over. He wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s thin shoulders and pulled him against his chest. Yennefer watched them with a knowing smirk and he flipped her off. “Listen, I think Yen is right - you can’t trust him to be free,” he said. “But in the end, it’s your choice.”

Jaskier smiled ruefully. “Because I’ll be king?”

“No,” Geralt said, quiet. “Because you’re his son.”

Yennefer stretched out and kicked Jaskier with her foot. “He’s right; I mean, I’m right but he’s right. You should do what you think is best.”

“Okay,” he agreed easily enough, looking down at his hands. “I’ll think about it.”

Yennefer hmmed as she rolled off the bed and got to her feet; Geralt watched her and pointedly did not miss the smirk on her face. “Well, I’ll be leaving you boys alone,” she said. “Let you get… reacquainted.”

“Yen,” he said, a warning.

She rolled her eyes and walked to the door. “I think the king has bigger worries right now than who’s boning his precious son,” she winked at a blushing Jaskier. “Goodnight, Your Highness.”

Geralt let out a snort as she opened the door and left, closing it behind her.

“Sorry, she can be… a lot,” he said after a moment.

Jaskier looked over at him and smiled, slow and sweet. “If this all… works out or whatever, I - I was wondering…” he trailed off and looked away again. “What are you doing to do?”

That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?

Geralt had had no intentions of staying when he first arrived, but now… he wasn’t so sure. “Can I admit something without you getting offended?” he asked, and Jaskier smiled.

“Yes, you may,” he said, mildly amused.

Geralt sighed heavily. “I fucking hate royalty,” he said, the words rolling off his tongue without a second thought, “I just - I always have, and you are frankly maybe my second exception ever.”

Jaskier watched him curiously. “Second?” he asked, but he didn’t sound - jealous or anything.

Geralt looked away. “She was a princess and… we weren’t involved, not really, but I couldn’t help her and she - I ended up killing her.”

“Oh,” he breathed. “That’s - harsh,” he finished. “I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged and tugged him closer again. “Most royals are selfish pricks, only caring about themselves or money or women,” Geralt turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to Jaskier’s temple. “You’re caring to a fault, I think.”

Jaskier huffed out a laugh. “Am not,” he argued.

“Mmm,” Geralt said, obviously not convinced. “My point is, I don’t know what the future holds but right now…” He reached down, found Jaskier’s hand and squeezed. “I know I want to be with you.” He looked at him then, the most nervous he’d been in years - decades, probably. “Is that enough?”

Jaskier stared back. He smiled finally, and some of the tension melted away.

“Yeah,” he answered, barely a whisper. “I think that’s enough.”

Geralt leaned forward and kissed him, soft and sweet, expressing everything he couldn’t - might never be able to - say with words. Jaskier hummed, content, and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

“Fuck,” Geralt grunted when Jaskier pulled away.

Jaskier grinned toothily and shrugged, brushing a strand of hair behind one of Geralt’s ears. “That can be arranged,” he said, and Geralt felt hot all over at the implication.

“You have - ?” he started but Jaskier was already moving off the bed and pulling oil out of the stand by his bed. He winked, only slightly flushed, as he crawled back on the bed and straddled Geralt. “Fuck,” he repeated.

Jaskier laughed and leaned down, kissing him again.

Jaskier left after that despite Geralt's protests - "we can't let him get any more suspicious before the party," he said, smartly so. Geralt sat up and waited for him. He'd been doing a lot of that lately; waiting. He wasn't used to it - he was usually the one rushing into things, for better or worse.

After a while, the door opened and Jaskier slipped back in with a tired smile on his face.

"So?" he prompted, sitting up straighter.

Jaskier walked over and sighed dramatically, plopping on the bed, putting his head in Geralt's lap. Geralt's lips turned upward in a smile. "He was being passive aggressive as fuck and trying to talk me out of the party." 

Geralt hummed, starting to comb his fingers through Jaskier's hair without even thinking. "But he didn't, right?"

Jaskier grinned up at him. "What do _you_ think?"

"Point taken," he replied. "I'm sorry, Jaskier," he continued after a beat, quiet. Jaskier looked up at him and waited patiently. "You don't deserve this."

He nodded and reached up, lightly tracing the sharp curve of Geralt's jaw with his fingertips. "I was terrified," he explained slowly. "All I've ever wanted to do was sing and I knew it was never something I could do, not really, but I was happy just having it as a dirty little secret. The thought of losing that was..." he trailed off, taking a shaky breath. "I was just scared, but then my father mentioned a witcher and I was hopeful and - and then I met you, and I know this is a terrible thing to say, but if the cost of what I went through was meeting you, it was all worth it."

Geralt pressed his lips together. "Don't say that," he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the tip of Jaskier's fingers. 

"But it's true," he replied, a little coyly. "I'm happy we met, Geralt, and... and whatever happens, wherever you go, that will always be true."

Geralt's heart skipped a beat. In a way, he knew right then what he was going to do without _really_ knowing. Like a decision had been made outside of his conscious mind, just waiting for him to catch up. "Me too," he said, honestly. He would never leave Jaskier again, not without putting up one hell of a fight.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lil bit of fluff to hold u over... the party starts in the next chap so!! drama finally

Jaskier planned the party. He was never without Geralt or Yennefer by his side, just to be safe. Balweic pretended to be okay with it, but Geralt never missed the look on his face, the tight line of his lips.

“Okay,” Jaskier sighed, leaning into Geralt’s side. “The party is next week. It’s official.”

He rubbed Jaskier’s arm, ignoring the look pointed his way from Balweic, a few feet away. Geralt even leaned down and pressed a kiss Jaskier’s forehead, right above his brow.

When he looked again, Balweic was gone. He smirked, briefly, before Jaskier touched his face.

“What is it?” he asked, amused.

Geralt shrugged. “Have you decided what you want to do?” he asked, changing the subject.

Jaskier sighed softly, tilting his head back and forth, thoughtful. “Geralt,” he said after a moment. “What would you say if… if I didn’t want to be king?”

Geralt was shocked, mostly because he didn’t think that was an option. He looked around - they were alone - before walking around and standing in front of Jaskier, staring into his eyes, serious. “Can you do that?”

“Maybe?” Jaskier said, a little high pitched and nervous. “I mean, I’ll be in charge - can’t I make the decisions?”

Geralt hmmed. “But why?” he asked, even though he had a pretty good idea.

Jaskier looked down. “I told you, remember?” he said, soft. “This was never presented to me as a choice, I was born into this and - and I never really cared about any of it.”

Geralt took his hands, squeezing, and Jaskier smiled, the barest hint of teeth.

“I mean, I love the people who work here - they’re like my family, my _real_ family. And I care for the townsfolk and I want the best for them, which is why I need to step down, I think.” Jaskier looked up. “They need a real leader, not - not someone doing it because they have to.”

Geralt nodded, stroking the back of Jaskier’s hands with his thumbs. “Okay,” he said with an air of finality. “If you don’t want to be king, what _do_ you want, Jaskier?”

Jaskier stared into his eyes. “Will you think it’s terribly cliche if I say you?” he asked with a bit of humor.

“Yes,” he replied instantly, “but I don’t mind.” He looked down at their hands. “But what else? You have to have dreams, right?”

Jaskier licked his lips. “I told you I always loved, um, singing and playing, right? I mean, I - I can do that, right?”

“Your Highness,” Geralt said, amused, “do you want to be a _bard?_ ”

He looked up, almost shy. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed thoughtfully. “I think I’ll need to hear your singing, first, before I decide that.”

Jaskier grinned toothily. “Okay,” he said with a playful wink. “Follow me.”

Geralt sat on the bed, watching as Jaskier grabbed his lute and joined him, clearing his throat and looking wildly nervous.

He reached out and put a hand on his leg. “It’s just me,” he said.

Jaskier stared down at his hand and slowly smiled. “Yeah,” he breathed, looking back up. “I know. Um, just. It’s been a while, okay?” he said, gesturing at his throat. “Because, yeah, so. Be nice.”

Geralt smirked, squeezing his leg. “No promises,” he replied, and Jaskier laughed, soft and airy.

It worked, at least, because after that he was less tense. “Okay, well.”

Without any further ado, Jaskier settled the lute comfortably in his lap and began playing. Geralt watched, silent, as his fingers - elegant and lightly calloused, he noticed - moved gracefully over the strings.

Geralt’s eyes flickered up to his face just as his lips parted and he began singing. Jaskier’s voice was shaky at first, obviously nervous.

He squeezed his leg again, a silent comfort, and the corners of Jaskier’s mouth quirked up, almost smiling.

He grew more confident after that, his voice growing louder and more steady.

Geralt listened, smiling lightly. Jaskier was a surprisingly good singer once he got comfortable, and his lyrics were impressive, true stories of his life, just embellished.

He finished and smiled shyly. “So?”

“You really wrote that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Jaskier blushed and nodded. “Well, yeah. It’s - it’s not polished or anything - ”

“It was good,” he interrupted. “You’re amazing, Jaskier.”

Jaskier grinned, big, and looked down, a flush high on his cheeks. “You’re just saying that,” he muttered. “No need for the flattery; you’ve already bedded me, dear witcher.”

Geralt snorted and scooted closer, wrapping an arm around him. “Your father was an idiot,” he started, a bit of his hatred for the man pouring through, making his voice rough, “for not seeing your talent for what it was: a gift.”

Jaskier leaned against his side. “Yeah? So you think I could survive as a bard?”

“You would,” he replied confidently.

Jaskier smiled, soft, and turned his head, kissing the side of Geralt’s neck. “You travel a lot as a witcher, right?” he asked, and Geralt nodded. Jaskier sighed, nuzzling his jaw. “You could take me with you. I’ll be your companion, the traveling bard.”

Geralt rubbed his arm. “I’ll think about it,” he said. Really, he wanted nothing more but his job - his _life_ \- was dangerous, constantly, and Jaskier was a human. He wasn’t sure he could live with himself if he took Jaskier along and had to watch as he died, prematurely.

“Okay,” Jaskier whispered.

They slept after that, curled up together in Jaskier’s bed. It was big and lush, but they still found themselves slotted together, legs tangled under the sheets. Geralt woke up first and watched Jaskier as he slept.

Reaching out, he tucked a few strands of hair behind one of his ears.

“Mmmm,” Jaskier said, sleepily.

Geralt smiled, just a hint. “Hey,” he said. “It’s morning.”

Jaskier groaned, but opened his eyes, blinking the sleep out of them. “Hi.”

“So, three days,” he said, indicating the time left before the party.

Jaskier nodded, biting his bottom lip. He looked nervous again, and Geralt knew there was no comforting him until it was all over and dealt with. “I haven’t even decided on what I’m going to say yet.”

“Hmm, you still have time,” he assured him. “I do have one question, though.”

Jaskier seemed surprised. “What is it?”

“Have you considered who you want to take your place on the throne?”

Jaskier blinked, once. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, chewing on his bottom lip. “I - ” he paused and rolled back over, staring into Geralt’s eyes. “I think I have an idea.”

“Okay,” Geralt said. He didn’t push for more; he trusted Jaskier’s decision. “Are you hungry?”

Jaskier grinned, seeming to relax, which might’ve been Geralt’s goal. “Is water wet?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Geralt smiled, small, as he sat up. “Come on, might as well arrive for breakfast together and give your father another reason to hate my very existence.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chap then it's officially over and im lowkey sad :")

Geralt stood in Jaskier’s room with him, getting ready for the party. Jaskier pulled on a blue jacket that complemented his eyes and Geralt paused, staring at him. Jaskier smiled, somehow both shy and coy.

“What?” he asked, doing a little spin.

Geralt smiled, just the barest hint of teeth. “Come here,” he said, extending his arms.

Jaskier grinned toothily as he crossed the room, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt placed his hand low on his back, warm and heavy.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Jaskier said with a twinkle in his eye. “Thanks to me,” he added, nuzzling Geralt’s jaw.

Jaskier had gotten the seamstress to put together a new outfit for Geralt for the party. It was red with specks of blue, matching Jaskier’s outfit, and looked beautiful against his skin.

“Hmm,” was Geralt’s eloquent reply, burying his face in Jaskier’s hair.

Witchers had a thing for scents, and Jaskier was slowly becoming Geralt’s favorite smell in the world: vanilla, from the soaps he used, with a hint of something else - Jaskier’s natural smell, a mix of oak and something spicy like cinnamon.

“Are you ready for this?” Geralt asked after a moment, pulling back.

Jaskier took a shaky breath and squared his shoulders. “Not really,” he admitted. He reached down and grabbed Geralt’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “But it’s not like I have a choice,” he sighed, “do I?”

Geralt brushed the back of his knuckles against Jaskier’s cheek. “Guess not.”

Nodding, Jaskier squeezed Geralt’s hand and walked to the door. The door opened before he could touch it, revealing Yennefer in all her glory.

“Wow,” Jaskier said, smirking. “You look amazing.”

Yennefer adjusted her dress, dark and tight-fitting in all the right places. “I know,” she said primly, glancing between them. “Ready, boys?”

Jaskier nodded curtly. “Yes.” He reached out with his other hand and waited.

Yennefer stared at his hand for a long, quiet moment before rolling her eyes, entirely fond, and accepting it. Jaskier smiled, feeling better, and held his head high.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

The ballroom was bustling with townsfolk and other royalty when they arrived, Jaskier still hand-in-hand with Yennefer and Geralt, not backing down even when his father glanced at him from across the room disapprovingly.

Geralt leaned down. “You’ve got this,” he whispered in his ear.

Jaskier smiled briefly, squeezing his hand. “I know,” he said, meaning it. He felt like he could survive anything with Geralt by his side. It was a new, exhilarating feeling.

They all parted ways for the moment. Jaskier walked over to his father, smiling tightly.

“Hi, father,” he greeted tersely, taking the empty seat beside him. “Enjoying yourself?”

Balweic hmmed. “Are _you_?” he shot back, and Jaskier quickly noticed he was looking across the room at Geralt, standing near the refreshments with Yennefer.

His stomach lurched as he squared his shoulders. “Yes,” he said. “I am.”

Balweic sighed, folding his hands together in his lap, his shoulders a tense line. “Why are you doing this, Jaskier?” he asked in a low voice. “Do you know how hard things have been since your mother’s death?”

Jaskier frowned, looking away. “Don’t,” he said firmly.

“Jaskier, I have been so good to you,” he continued without missing a beat. “I have tried my best, even when you were determined to make things difficult by - ”

He turned toward him, eyes on fire. “By what?” he interrupted, narrowing his eyes. “Liking men? Liking music?”

Balweic frowned and shook his head, that same disapproving look on his face. “You know what I mean, Jaskier,” he said roughly. “You are going to be king. Act like it.”

“But you didn’t want me to be,” Jaskier hissed, “ _did_ you?”

Balweic visibly flinched and Jaskier smiled, all sharp around the edges. Before Balweic could say anything, Jaskier stood up and extended his arms. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he greeted. “It is time for us to give thanks to the witcher and sorceress who so graciously broke the curse and freed me.”

All eyes were on him as he stood there, hiding his shaking hands behind his back.

“Everyone, welcome Geralt of Rivia,” he said, gesturing toward Geralt as he walked through the crowd and joined Jaskier on the small stage. He saw his father’s frown out of the corner of his eye, weighing him down. “And Yennefer of Vengerberg.”

Yennefer joined them on the small stage, standing tall in her heels.

Jaskier took a shaky breath. “These two helped me when I was cursed,” he said, taking both of their hands again. “I was scared that I would never be able to do what I love again, and _that_ is sing.”

The crowds looked at each other, confusion obviously written on their faces.

“Such a thing happened because my own _father_ ,” he started, hatred dripping from every word, “ _cursed_ me.”

The crowd let out loud jeers, torn between confused and anger. Balweic scrambled to his feet. “What are you talking about?” he asked, and Geralt stepped forward.

“I can smell the fear pouring off you,” he said, slow and even, “ _and_ the guilt.”

Balweic stumbled back. “I would never curse my own son,” he said, looking out into the sea of faces. “No- none of you are believing this nonsense, right?” he asked, eyes wild. “They’re - they’re making this up!”

Jaskier stepped forward, holding his head high. “My coronation was scheduled to be in a week,” he said and Geralt watched him, impressed, “but I think, due to recent events, it will be happening _tonight_.”

“No!” Balweic snapped, facing him, hands curled into fists.

Geralt stepped closer to Jaskier, and so did Yennefer.

“I am not _asking_ , father,” he said. “Guards!” he called. “Take my father to the dungeon.”

Jaskier waited with bated breath. The crowds suddenly roared with jeers.

_“Lock him up!”_

_“How could he do that?”_

_“His own son?”_

Jaskier relaxed, just barely, and Geralt grabbed his hand, squeezing. The guards rushed over and grabbed Balweic by the shoulder, hauling him off. Jaskier knew he was doing the right thing, he could feel it, but in that moment he still just wanted to cry.

“It’s okay,” Geralt whispered, nuzzling the side of his face. “You’ll be okay.”

Yennefer stepped forward and lightly touched Jaskier’s back. “Go on,” she said quietly. “Your loyal subjects are waiting.”

Jaskier startled and turned, looking out into the hundreds of waiting faces.

“I’m in charge now,” he said, fighting back his nerves. There were cheers and he winced. Geralt stroked the back of his hand with his thumb. “But not for long.”

The crowds quieted, and some of them whispered amongst themselves.

“Expanding on what I said earlier, I never wanted to be royalty. I always dreamed of… a simpler life, where my name was known because of my _own_ achievements, not my father’s.” Jaskier took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “So I will be stepping down and letting Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon take my place as king.”

He caught Cirilla’s face in the crowds, wide-eyed.

Jaskier nodded at Yennefer, who stepped down from the stage and walked over to the young girl, taking her hand and leading her through the crowds to the stage. Jaskier smiled down at her, extending his hand.

She hesitated for a second before taking it. Jaskier pulled her up to join him.

“She is what royalty _should_ be,” he said. “Loyal, smart, and passionate about others.”

Cirilla looked at him, still wide-eyed. “Jaskier,” she said, hushed. “Are you sure?”

He smiled, feeling the lightest he had in months. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he said, stepping back. Cirilla stepped forward slowly and the ballroom was quiet. “You will all accept her as my replacement or join my father,” he called, meaning every word of it.

Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s hand again and squeezed, a silent comfort as they all waited. Finally, one person cheered and the others joined in, one by one, until the whole ballroom was alive with applause and cheers.

Cirilla laughed, and Jaskier could see the tears in the corners of her eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this wonderful adventure is finally over and im lowkey sad but also happy to start new fics!! <3

“Jaskier,” Cirilla’s voice was soft and sad. “Do you have to go?”

He took her hands and squeezed. After having discussed things further with Geralt, the witcher had finally agreed to take Jaskier with him (on the condition he let Geralt teach him how to fight).

“I’ll visit,” he assured her, meaning it.

He had many reasons to visit - to see her, to see the others who had raised him after his mother died, Triss, who had been reasonably angry when she learned about his father, immediately taking Jaskier’s side despite her feelings for the man.

And, lastly, to see his father, who he knew he couldn’t just cut out entirely.

He hoped - prayed - one day he could forgive him if only for himself.

Cirilla stepped forward and hugged him tightly. “This will always be your kingdom, too,” she whispered and Jaskier hugged her back, burying his face in her hair.

“I know,” he whispered, pulling away before he could talk himself out of leaving.

He wanted this - he wanted this more than anything - but leaving was always hard, especially when Jaskier had never even properly stepped foot out of the city. So many new things, and he was going to be trying them all with Geralt.

He couldn’t tell if he was more nervous or excited. Cirilla smiled knowingly.

“You’ll have fun,” she said in a hushed voice. “I see you way you look at him, Jas, and I see the way he looks at you, too. It’s a beautiful thing.”

Jaskier laughed, a little wet. “I love you, Ciri. You’re my family, always have been.”

She smiled, big, looking pleased. “I know,” she said. “Now - ” she pushed him gently “ - _go_ before he gets bored of waiting.”

He turned around and saw Geralt waiting by the door, two bags hanging off his shoulders, one of his own and one belonging to Jaskier. He smiled, the sight of Geralt immediately easing his worries.

He was doing the right thing. He could feel it.

Yennefer was waiting by the gates for them. Jaskier didn’t really know much about her relationship with Geralt, especially from before they met. He wondered if she would be traveling with them but Geralt hadn’t mentioned it.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Jaskier,” she said once they reached her.

Jaskier nodded, hoisting his bag farther up on his shoulder. He’d taken it from Geralt after talking to Cirilla, ignoring his protests. He didn’t care if Geralt was stronger; he was going to hold his own on their travels.

He never wanted Geralt to regret his decision to bring him along.

“Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

Yennefer smiled briefly and Jaskier decided fuck it, giving her a quick hug. She hesitated for just a second before returning it.

Separating, Yennefer turned to Geralt, an odd look on her face. “Take care of him,” she said, “… and yourself, okay?”

“Yen,” he said, and suddenly Jaskier understood their history clearly.

She put a hand in the air, silencing him. “If you find someone who truly makes you happy, that is a gift,” she said pointedly. “So don’t fuck it up, okay?”

Jaskier watched as Geralt nodded curtly, silent. Yennefer nodded back and turned away from them, opening a portal.

“Yen!” Jaskier called right before she stepped through the portal. She looked back at him and raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Just - take care, okay?”

She smiled, the barest hint of teeth. “I always do,” she assured him. “See you around, boys.”

Jaskier nodded and watched as she stepped through the portal, which promptly closed behind her. Clearing his throat, he turned to Geralt and smiled sheepishly.

“So.”

“So,” Geralt parroted. “I have something to show you.”

Jaskier was surprised by the news, but pleased. “Oh? Do lead the way.”

Rolling his eyes, Geralt led him to to the stables. Jaskier watched curiously as he approached Roach and brushed a hand down her back.

“Um, what exactly are you showing me?” he asked. “I mean,” he walked over and smiled at Roach cheerily, “I do love Roach but I was expecting - ”

Geralt grabbed his shoulders and turned him around. Jaskier blinked at the sight of an unfamiliar horse, pure white.

“Um,” Jaskier said. The horse neighed. “Who is this?”

Geralt let out a huff of laughter and let go of his shoulders, approaching the horse. “I asked Cirilla for a favor,” he said simply.

“Oh, oh, wow,” Jaskier said, slowly approaching the horse and reaching for him. The horse snorted but quieted down once he had his hand on him, scratching behind one of his ears. “He’s - he’s for me?”

Geralt rolled his eyes, but Jaskier could tell it was mostly fond. “Who else?” He cleared his throat. “Roach can carry two, but it slows her down and besides…” he hesitated. “If anything ever happens to me, it’ll be better if you have your own horse.”

Jaskier frowned and sidestepped, pressing against Geralt’s side. “Don’t say that,” he chided softly. “Nothing will happen. You said it yourself, right? You’ll teach me how to defend myself.”

“I will,” he confirmed firmly. “We’ll start as soon as possible.”

Jaskier turned his head and nuzzled Geralt’s jaw, feeling impossibly in love. He was startled by the realization: he was, fully and truly, in love. He always thought he’d loved Bertin, but he was wrong.

He’d been _so_ wrong. This was what love felt like: warm and overwhelming and, frankly, scary. Jaskier laughed without even realizing it.

Geralt wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “What is it?” he asked gruffly.

“Nothing,” he replied quickly. “Just… I’m really happy.”

Geralt hmmed. “Traveling with me will be dangerous, Jas,” he said, taking on the nickname Cirilla had used for him since they were both much younger. His heart swelled with fondness for the witcher, grateful for him. “I can’t promise you won’t get hurt, and - ”

Jaskier cupped Geralt’s face with both hands. “I know,” he said, cutting him off. “I know all of that and yet - ” he took a deep breath and smiled. “And yet this is still what I want. I’m confident of that.”

“Okay,” Geralt said quietly. “I - ” he cleared his throat. “This is what I want, too.”

Jaskier nodded, smiling even bigger. He looked back at his horse. He was a beautiful thing. “Did you ever think this would be what you ended up when you first accepted this job?”

Geralt snorted and found Jaskier’s hand, squeezing. “Absolutely not,” he answered truthfully.

“Sometimes life has a way of surprising you,” Jaskier mumbled. “Hmm, I could probably do something with that,” he decided, filing it away for later. “I mean, if I’m going to be a bard, I need more lyrics, right?”

Geralt rolled his eyes and gently knocked their heads together. He reached out and brushed a hand down the horse’s back. “Do you have a name for him yet?”

Jaskier hadn’t even thought about that. “Ohh,” he said, eyes sparkling. “What about Pegasus?” he offered, half joking but then he heard Geralt’s sharp laughter and he grinned, pleased. He was sold. Reaching out, he scratched behind one of the horse’s ears. “Hi there, Pegasus,” he greeted brightly and the horse stomped his feet. “Ohh, I think he likes it. Or hates it; I can’t tell.”

Geralt turned his head and buried his face in Jaskier’s hair, still laughing.

He loved Geralt’s laughter; he hoped he would hear more of it.

“We should go,” Geralt said finally, calming down. He rubbed Jaskier’s arm. “Before it gets too dark.”

Jaskier nodded. He mounted Pegasus and followed Geralt out of the stables. He paused, pulling on Pegasus’ reins, and peered up at the castle. The sight of it was both comforting and draining all at once, a complicated mess of emotions.

Geralt stopped near him. “Ready to go?” he asked softly.

He took a deep breath and looked away. “Yes,” he answered, meaning it. He was ready for a future with Geralt. He was ready for the good and the bad, all of it. Because he knew Destiny had brought them together for a reason, and he was excited to learn why.

**Author's Note:**

> if u enjoy my fics please check out:  
> korrmin.tumblr.com/writing


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